The Generosity of the Capitol
by Lbug84
Summary: "The word prostitution is ugly, and I'm grateful that Haymitch doesn't use it. But even nicer sounding words can't glaze over the truth enough to keep it from stinging." Katniss Everdeen is forced into her career but she refuses to be a victim. Torn between Finnick, her lover and mentor, and Peeta, a Capitolite suitor, she will learn to make the system work for her. K/P/F triangle
1. Innocence Lost

_I love Finnick. LOVE him. If you've read my fics The Glühwein Series (that I coauthor with mockingjayflyingfree) or Unalaska, then you already know that :) and I'd like to be upfront: in this universe,** Finnick is the leading man**._

_There will be Everlark sexy times, in this chapter even, cus I love me some Peeta, too! But please take note that there is a triangle and that **Everlark is not necessarily endgame**. Crazy, right?_

_Keywords: Katnick, Everlark, love triangle, forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, explicit language, anal sex, toys, non-con elements, dubious consent._

_This is new territory for me too, y'all. So I get it if it's not your thing. If not, then please read no further. You may enjoy one of my other universes instead. Try my fic 7 Steps for a modern Everlark AU in which Peeta is Indian and Katniss is Trini, or Blend for a modern Everlark AU starring daddy!Peeta, or the Christmas TV series for a little Everlark BDSM. Or try Behind the Wall for a canon divergence fic starring Hijacked Peeta._

_But if you're willing to explore this universe with me, I welcome you. I'm sure you won't be disappointed._

_Thank you to mockingjayflyingfree, who always supports and inspires my writing, even when she tears apart documents and sends them back bleeding. There's simply no one better than you. Love you! Thank you to Chelzie for fixing my grammar and listening to me complain about having accidentally written a Katnick story. Thank you to Diana_Flynn for pre-reading and offering valuable feedback in the setup of this universe and for posting pics on tumblr of Inara from Firefly to make me smile._

_I own nothing. The Hunger Games Universe and it's characters were created by Suzanne Collins._

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><p><strong>Innocence Lost<strong>

From the moment I could hear again, Haymitch started to prepare me. He explained the situation slowly and carefully to make sure I understood. Getting me out of that arena was _expensive_.

The Capitolites don't look at Tributes and see people. They see characters. They see Avatars. They see players. They choose their favorite, and they sponsor them. This year, many chose me, and now... they want me.

The word prostitution is ugly, and I'm grateful that Haymitch doesn't use it. But even nicer sounding words can't glaze over the truth enough to keep it from stinging. If I don't do this, they'll go after my family. They'll go after Prim.

I'm in the hospital, still recovering from my Games. Still mending broken bones and healing burned skin. I'm rubbing my shoulder, newly sore from the birth control shot a nurse just gave me. Damn. This arm is going to be dead tomorrow.

"It happens to a lot of the victors," Haymitch says. He sits on the edge of my bed and pulls a silver flask from his pocket. He offers me a swig, but I refuse. Haymitch has brought Finnick Odair, a victor from 4, with him, but I'm too preoccupied by the news of having my body sold to the highest bidder to make a big deal of his presence. "For some reason, sweetheart, they find you desirable." I roll my eyes at his attempt to joke about this. He seems almost as uncomfortable about this conversation as I am.

"If they didn't want you, they wouldn't have sponsored you," Finnick explains. He doesn't sit on the edge of my bed. Instead he stands near the door, looking like he's posing for one of those Capitol fashion magazines that Effie gave me to pass the time in here. He's perfect. Too perfect.

"Why would they _want_ me?" I ask almost desperately.

"They can see that you're something special." I stare at Finnick in disbelief. What is he talking about?

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Haymitch huffs.

Finnick waves off Haymitch's disinterest. He steps closer and reaches for my hand. I allow it. He looks into my eyes as he stands beside my bed. "We'll help you through it, Katniss."

"Yeah. Help." Haymitch chuckles bitterly. "At least you're of age."

I celebrated my 18th birthday in the arena. Happy Birthday to me.

"You're not a virgin, are you?" Haymitch asks.

"Of course not." The lie slips out all too easily.

"Well, that's something, at least." Haymitch sighs as he reaches into his pocket. "You've got a few more days to rest before your interview... and your first assignment."

He extends an envelope in cream, expensive-looking paper. As I reach for it, I ask, "What can I do?" Surely he has a way to help me out of this?

Haymitch only shakes his head. "Stay alive."

X

12 hasn't had a winner since Haymitch. No one expected me to win. But I did. So when Cinna appears in my recovery room with a white button down blouse and a light yellow pencil skirt in hand, a surprisingly plain outfit in comparison to what I wore to my last interview, I decide to go through the motions. I memorize a speech, learning to deliver it flawlessly. "Thanks to the generosity of the Capitol," it begins. Cinna fastens my Mockingjay pin over my heart and I try to convince myself that I believe it.

It's easy enough to feign interest. I've been holding my emotions in for weeks. This is about survival, and nothing more. I can't allow myself to break. Not yet.

My district partner, Symon, was a merchant. His father was a tailor, and though he worked hard at his trade, he in no way had the means to prepare Symon for the Games. Symon was gifted with a needle and thread, but he wasn't deadly. He wasn't strong. He couldn't lift. He couldn't wrestle. And even though I did my best to protect him, especially after I lost Rue and formed an alliance with Cato, I couldn't. He couldn't hunt. He could barely start a fire. He was too easy to track and didn't read any of the signals I sent him to _run_.

I looked away as Cato plunged his sword into Symon's back. But only to reach for my quiver and retrieve the arrow that I shot through his heart only moments later. Symon's death meant our truce was over.

"He deserved it," I tell Caesar. "There was no honor in his kill. Cato saw my arrow coming and I watched the light fade from his eyes." I do nothing to hide my bloodlust. I have to face the people of 12 when I get home. I want them to know that I took revenge on the boy who killed my district partner.

"It's a good thing you did." Caesar says as he leans in, acting as if we are old friends. I tilt my head and cross my legs, hating the 3 inch heels they're making me wear. I allow him to whisper loudly in my ear. "They say if you'd drawn it out, they would have released mutts."

The audience gasps at the danger I supposedly escaped. But I catch the camera zooming in on me, a shameless shot of my cleavage filling a nearby monitor, and I know that I'm in more danger than ever.

As I stand to say goodnight to the audience, I find Cinna's eyes in the sea of people. He nods once, cueing me to turn. And when I do, my yellow skirt explodes into orange flames. I exit the stage as they applaud. I take small satisfaction in the fact that I'm _still_ the girl on fire.

X

I'm exhausted after my interview, but I try not to let it show. I still need to keep it together. I'm escorted back to the training center, to the victor's area on the mezzanine floor. The 12 floors above us are vacant now that the Games are over. With the exception of Haymitch, who is charged with the task of getting me settled in, all of the mentors have gone back to their home districts. The only victors who remain have private suites on this floor because they are working for Snow.

I don't have the chance to look around the common area. I'm led directly to my suite, with a large bedroom, a sitting area, and an attached bathroom. The peacekeeper points to the bed and tells me to get some sleep. My first assignment begins in 2 hours. I'm grateful that a dreamless sleep comes easily.

X

The calm doesn't last. When I wake, my hands are trembling. My skin is cold and clammy. And despite there being nothing in my stomach, my body heaves. I rush to the bathroom, my knees hitting the cool porcelain only moments before I expel water and stomach acid from my body. It burns, but I welcome the pain. It reminds me that I'm alive. That this still isn't over.

I take a shower. I use rose scented soap and water so hot it nearly scalds my skin to wash away the evidence of my weakness. I can't let anyone see me break.

The common area is empty when they come for me. I'm escorted by plain clothed peacekeepers to the home of a Plutarch Heavensbee. At least, that's what the message detailing my first assignment says:

Client: Plutarch Heavensbee

Gender: Male

Occupation: Dean of Communications, Capitol University

Services: Fellatio, Vaginal Intercourse

Notes: None

I suppose it could be worse. I'm not sure how. But...somehow.

The house is located on the campus of Capitol University, an old building that looks like the town houses we have in the merchant center back in 12, only much bigger. I'm dressed conservatively enough. Plutarch "ordered" the sexy school girl he saw on TV this evening. I'm wearing a black pencil skirt and a white button down shirt, and shoes Cinna described as Mary Janes. My mockingjay token is fastened to my chest, and it feels like it's protecting my heart.

The peacekeepers don't follow me to the door. I climb three steps and ring the doorbell myself.

The sight of the overweight man in front of me should be off putting, but it's not like I have a choice here anyway. Besides, he's handsome enough, I decide, as his lips turn up in a welcoming smile. He might as well be my first.

I don't introduce myself. I step inside and quickly take in my surroundings. The hallway is tasteful, and even though the luxury is understated for the Capitol, there's nothing like this anywhere in 12. There are thick, plush carpets and large mirrors. There's a wide, expensive-looking spiral staircase. I guess the bedrooms are upstairs, and perhaps that's where I'll be expected to _perform_.

I feel like I'm standing on the platform again, just before the start of the Games, listening to the countdown that determines my fate. I used those 60 seconds wisely before. I scanned what I could see of the arena and the Cornucopia. I knew it was a risk, but I knew I could grab that orange backpack. I couldn't let fear paralyze me then any more than I can now. Heavensbee shuts the door behind me and I get right to work, unbuttoning my blouse.

"How would you like to begin?" I ask in vain. It clearly said _fellatio_ on the card.

He pushes my hands away with his and I tense. He must want to undress me himself. But to my surprise, he buttons my blouse back up. "Please, call me Plutarch." He offers me his elbow. "To answer your question, I'd like to begin with a walk."

I look at him, confused.

"Plutarch, dear. Are you ready to - oh!" A woman dressed in a simple black top and floral leggings appears at the door. That's when I notice that Plutarch is dressed for an evening out, and she is not. "I didn't realize she'd be here so soon."

Confusion floods my body as I try to make sense of what's happening. Who is this woman? Why is she here? Wouldn't they tell me if someone was allowed to watch, or maybe even participate? I'm pretty sure that's extra, and it should definitely be mentioned on the card. Shouldn't it?

"Katniss, this is my wife, Edna." Plutarch extends his hand and Edna walks over, allowing him to hold her hand and press it to his lips.

"Nice to meet you." She smiles softly at me. "You're very brave."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The way you volunteered for your sister." She shakes her head in disbelief and looks at me with awe. "And so very smart. Your knowledge of snares and plant life was simply bri-" Plutarch clears his throat and she looks at him apologetically. "Apologies. Suffice it to say, we were more than a little impressed. We were among your biggest sponsors!"

"I don't understand."

"Edna, dear, I've yet to pick her mind myself."

"Pick my _mind_? You mean you don't want me to...?" I let the words hang in the air.

Plutarch and his wife share a look and begin to laugh lightly. "No, we're quite happy with each other, dear," Edna explains.

"I'll explain on the way," Plutarch explains, offering me his elbow again. "Shall we?"

"Walk?" I confirm.

"And so much more." He raises his eyebrows at me expectantly.

I accept him. I'm not sure how much of a choice I really have here. I slide my hand around his surprisingly strong arm. He leans in to his wife and kisses her on the cheek. "We won't be late at all," he tells her.

"Of course not. Do enjoy yourselves."

X

Capitol University is beautiful. The campus is just outside of the city, and there are trees everywhere. The buildings are old, with domes at the tops and high black fences surrounding the perimeter. It's nice here. Patriotic in an odd sort of way.

"Have you ever been to a library?" Plutarch asks as we meander down a brick road, leading to a large building surrounded by columns. I shake my head no. "Something tells me you'll love it."

I'm confused. Plutarch isn't hurting me. He's not forcing me into any of the dozen places I spy where I could be violated in the most public and obscene manners. Perhaps Haymitch has over prepared me. I've come to expect the worst.

"Why am I here?" I hedge.

"To escort me to this evening's reading, of course."

"Reading? That's - well, not what I was told."

"I know." He stops walking and turns to face me. "Given the subject matter of this evening's discussion, showing up with you on my arm had its appeal. I sent you a formal invitation, which was promptly declined. Unfortunately, requesting certain _services_ is the only way to enjoy your company."

I try to make sense of his words. Does he really mean that the only appointments I'm allowed are of a sexual nature? I shake my head as I realize that next time I probably won't be so lucky. How many people would be willing to pay for the pleasure of taking me to a _library?_

"Are my services expensive?" I ask.

Plutarch smiles sadly. "No more expensive than sponsoring you during the Games."

So...I'm a cheap date. That information did nothing for my self-esteem. But at least now I know what I'm worth to Snow.

"What's tonight's discussion about?"

Plutarch smiles and begins to walk. "Survival of the fittest."

X

My finger traces over the title of the book in my hand. "On the Origin of Species" was written long ago. It's one of a few literary relics from before the Dark Days. Beside me, Plutarch is beaming, still holding me proudly on his arm.

The main atrium of the library is gorgeous, surrounded by more books than I've ever seen. I could live in this room forever - there are more books than I could ingest in a lifetime.

"This copy is yours to keep," Plutarch whispers. I can't help but smile.

Dr. Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker, is at the podium, reading an excerpt of the book. I try not to stare daggers at him, but I hate him. He's the one who set fire to the woods around me, sending fireballs that nearly cost me my life. As I listen to him speak about a species' ability to adapt to change, I take notice of his hands. Soft, supple skin that's probably never seen a hard day's work.

My hands are soft now too, but they didn't used to be. They took away the evidence of my hard work, along with any sign that I was ever in the Games. It was no simple job getting me back to beauty base zero, not even with the elaborate arsenal of products, tools, and gadgets available in the Capitol. Once I was medically cleared for _duty_, they even gave me a full body polish.

The reading ends. We exit the atrium and enter a banquet hall. There are no books in here. The low lighting doesn't allow for reading, so I hold my book at my side. A drink is thrust into my hands, but I don't sip from it.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Plutarch asks.

"It's a little overwhelming," I say honestly.

"It's appalling." He smiles slyly. "Still, if you abandon your moral judgment, it can be fun."

I smile politely as Plutarch leads me around, introducing me to his colleagues, each one more educated than the last. The people stand in clusters, all speaking and laughing, and using words I've never heard.

"The Mockingjay is a brilliant example of adaptation," Dr. Crane explains to several men who are gathered around him. Plutarch leads us to them, and we join the circle. "However, there's very little genetic differentiation within the new species."

"That's not true," I blurt out. Immediately, I want to stuff the words back into my mouth.

Dr. Crane raises an eyebrow at me, clearly amused. "You have something to add, Miss Everdeen?"

"Oh," I look around, noticing all eyes are on me. "There is variation," I say. "Among mockingjays." I take a deep breath. "I didn't recognize the mockingjays in the arena right away, because they were from District 11."

"How do you know that?" Dr. Crane presses.

"Their song was different. Rue - I mean, the tribute from 11, was able to recognize the song. Warbles and cries are genetically determined, right?" I open the book in my hand, looking for the excerpt on finches I crossed earlier. But it's dark in here and Plutarch's hand over my book stops me anyway.

"Yes, Miss Everdeen. You are correct. Isn't she?" He smiles at Dr. Crane.

Dr. Crane is looking at me with a hard expression. But his sneer fades into a smile. "She is."

After that, it's easier to speak. My words are simple, and my explanations concise, but no one seems to mind. In fact, they start to offer their opinions. I have to be careful, though, as I discuss wild turkeys with a Senator's wife. I can't let them know I've been beyond the fence in 12.

"You are so insightful," she praises and her eyes shift to Plutarch. "This is a fine young lady."

"Thanks," I say, comfortable enough to finally sip from my glass, making a small slurping noise as I realize my drink is alcoholic. The senator's wife frowns as she judges me. "A little rough around the edges, though."

"Oh, I apologize." I pull my drink away from my lips, splashing clear liquid onto my black skirt.

Plutarch smiles as he offers me his handkerchief. "This is her first day back in proper society," he reminds the Senator's wife. It's actually my first day in proper society ever, but I don't correct him.

"Yes, of course," she curtsies - actually curtsies - as she takes her leave.

I chug the rest of my drink in a very unladylike fashion and turn to Plutarch. "I'd like to get some air," I say.

"Yes, of course." When I stand, Plutarch stands, prompting the other men at the table to do the same. It's an odd gesture that makes me feel more important than I am.

I exit the library, still blotting my skirt dry. I hold onto the banister as I follow a winding set of stairs that leads to an outdoor courtyard. The cool night air hits my skin and I feel calm. The floors are lined with large ceramic tiles, and columned archways provide a path that leads to a small pond. I take a few steps closer and lean against the final column. I reach my arms over my head and begin to braid my hair back as I watch a family of ducks swim by.

"Good evening," a melodic male voice calls to me.

I turn my head and find a tall, stocky blond smiling at me as he approaches me. He's dressed in a sweatshirt and very tight jeans, typical of Capitol University students.

"Hi."

"May I join you?"

"Oh... sure."

He stands a respectable distance away, leaning against another pole as he looks out at the pond. But I can see him move from the corner of my eye. He keeps turning his head to face me, then looks back at the pool again. "Would you like a mint?"

"What?" I look over to him with his hand extended, holding a little tin filled with white discs. I can feel him studying my face, so I'm careful not to look directly at him. "Oh. Thank you." I accept a mint and turn back towards the pond.

He pops a mint into his mouth and tucks the container into his pocket. "You're Katniss Everdeen, right?"

"Yes. And you are?"

"Peeta Mellark." He extends his hand to me and I sigh at the feeling of his warm skin. "What brings you to Capitol U?"

"Just visiting."

Peeta nods his head. "Well, it's great here. You'll enjoy it. The professors are really nice and-"

"That's not why I'm here," I interrupt.

"Oh?"

I almost let it slip that I'm here on assignment as the Capitol's newest whore, but I bite my tongue as I look back to the pond.

"I guess someone in your position could go to any school they wanted," he mutters.

"Probably," I sigh. These damn Capitolites, they think victors actually have a say in what we do. They don't understand that the generosity of the Capitol is not without limits. Ignorance must be bliss.

"So, what other schools are you looking at?"

"What?" I look at him, confused. School? I've never considered going to school before. I went to high school most days, but only because it was the thing to do. I've never considered continuing beyond that. "I'm not sure."

Peeta nods. "You've probably got your sights set on someplace back home, right?"

I shake my head no. We have a few trade schools in 12, one-year courses that are mostly attended by the merchants. The people from the Seam work in the mines and learn on the job. I have more money now than I could ever hope to spend. I don't need to learn a merchant class trade. "We don't have universities in 12."

"Oh...Well, like I said, it's great here. You should consider it."

I nod my head as he leans down, setting a stack of books down in front of him.

"What are those?" I ask.

He gestures to the books stacked at his feet. "Research. I've got a 30 page paper due next week." He shakes his head. "Why did I sign up for summer classes?" He laughs at himself.

"What are you studying?"

"Art History. I'm in my second year."

When he turns to me, the moonlight reflecting off of the water hits him just right. His blue eyes _shine_.

"Ooh," I say, putting my foot into my mouth. He raises his eyebrows at me questioningly. "You have nice eyes," I mutter and I look away.

I've only seen eyes that blue once before, on a merchant boy back in 12. The one who died when the bakery burned down, the day after he gave me the bread. It was raining, but he didn't care. He walked out to me and placed two loaves of bread, burnt at the end, into my hand. We were starving, and he saved my life. But I didn't get the chance to thank him. Before I could, he was gone.

It was years before anyone in 12 had fresh bread again.

"Thank you. Your eyes are beautiful, too."

I shake my head. "They're gray."

"No," he says as his hand reaches up to cup my jaw, turning me to face him. "Your eyes are silver. They're big and full of hope."

Hope? There's no hope left in my heart. No indication that things can be good again. How could there be? My life is dictated by too many other people. Peeta smiles, but he doesn't know I'm desperate to feel something other than the overwhelming guilt and anger. I throw my arms around his neck and rise up on my tip toes, and his eyes widen in surprise.

I have no idea how people do this. Are you supposed to silently understand the other person's intentions, or do you actually have to say it out loud? Remembering my own surprise the one time Gale tried to do this in the woods, and the awkwardness that followed, I breathe, "kiss me," just to make sure he understands.

He leans down, and our lips meet in a wet kiss as his arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me closer. His tongue slides sloppily against mine and I want to believe this is real.

I break the kiss before he's ready. His tongue still seeks mine out as I lower my heels to the ground.

"Wow," he says as he presses his forehead against mine.

This almost feels like a choice. I can give myself to Peeta tonight, and no one could take this away from me. Tomorrow I'll have another appointment, and my next suitor might not be as gentlemanly as Plutarch is. But right now... right now, I'm no one's whore.

I lean against the column and Peeta kisses me again, slower than before. He wants to savor this. But we don't have time. Plutarch will be looking for me soon.

"Touch me."

His hands tentatively wander my body, over my ass, teasing me. "I am touching you."

"No." I hike up my skirt and grab his hand, placing it boldly between my legs. "Touch me _here_." He pulls his lips off of mine and looks at me with a furrowed brow. But he doesn't deny me. His fingers slide up my thigh and I widen my stance.

"Fuck," his sighs as he discovers that I'm not wearing any underwear. I wasn't provided with any tonight. He gets me wet by dragging his fingertips slowly along my slit. My breathing deepens and he watches my chest rise and fall. "What are you-"

"Put your fingers in me," I beg.

He shakes his head once, as if he didn't hear me right. "Katniss-"

"Please, Peeta."

"Let's slow down. I haven't even asked you out to-" he says as he tries to withdraw his fingers. I squeeze my thighs around his hand, trapping it.

"No!" I lean forward and kiss his lips again. "I need you now."

"Why now?"

"Because..." If he doesn't do this now, then I'll have no say over who I give this to. But I can't tell him that. If I do, he'll never go along with it. "I - I don't sleep well." It's the truth, sort of. I _don__'__t_ sleep well. But that's not why I'm pressed against a column at Capitol University right now, with his hand between my legs.

"What?"

"I have nightmares, from the Games."

"Nightmares? Why would you have nightmares?" A proud smile spreads across his face. "You _won_."

I don't know how to explain to someone from the Capitol how horrible the Games really are. So I don't.

"It was lonely in there. I was so afraid I was going to die without..." I flick my tongue up, licking his lips once. "Knowing a man's touch." I'm lying through my teeth. That's the last thing I was thinking about in the arena. All I cared about was coming home to Prim. But maybe an innocent lie can speed things along. I wonder how long I've been here already. Ten minutes? Fifteen? How long is it going to take for Plutarch to come looking for me?

"You're a virgin?" he asks in disbelief.

I nod my head as I move my hips in small circles.

"But you're 18."

"Mmhmm."

I could tell him how it is in 12, that some Seam girls go to the slag heap and that I just wasn't one of them, but it wouldn't help move things along. So instead I ask, in a voice that I hope is deep and seductive, "Have you ever fucked a virgin before?"

Peeta shakes his head no, and his fingers begin to move again.

"Don't you want to know what it feels like?" I ask.

He's almost panting as he nods his head.

"You can, you know." I kiss him again before I bring my lips to his ear and whisper. "Right now."

"I've dreamed about this," he sighs as he slides a finger into me.

I squeeze my eyes shut at the foreign intrusion. "Ohhh..." It feels strange, but not unpleasant. My body responds to his touch, and it's confusing me. "I've never been touched," I tell him. He clearly likes that it's my first time. I need to spur him on.

His mouth is on mine again. I whimper when he adds a second finger as he deepens the kiss. He withdraws his hands and doesn't seem to need any more convincing. It's faster then, just like I need it to be. His jeans are collected around his ankles and he claws at my bodice. He kisses me again as he wraps his hand around his cock.

"Damn, I need to get-"

"I had a shot," I tell him and I tug on his hips, urging him inside. He understands right away that I mean birth control. It's common in the Capitol.

He uses his fingers to find my entrance. But his movements are now nervous and clumsy. He mutters apologies twice before I reach down, grabbing his cock. It's big and I can feel my body tremble with anticipation. I guide him to my opening and he pushes into me, hissing with every inch. He doesn't go slow, but does pause to look into my eyes and take a deep breath as he reaches my natural barrier. I nod my head again and summon up as much confidence as possible. "Do it," I encourage. With a snap of his hips, he ruins me, shedding me of my innocence, cursing loudly in pleasure as I cry out in pain.

He's moving then, all traces of tenderness gone. It's painful, but I start to move against him. My movements are inexperienced and erratic, but they seem to match his own.

"Oh, right," he says, sounding as if he's just remembered something. His hands reach down, and then he's rubbing it, the bundle of nerves only I have touched before. I moan for him as I get wetter, and the slickness between us feels good. There's a twisting, a building of something in my belly, but before I can reach the peak, he's pulsing inside of me, filling me with his hot cum. He groans, finding my lips and pushing his tongue into my mouth as his body shakes in bliss.

After, he pulls out of me immediately. He doesn't offer to finish me.

There's blood and cum wet between my thighs. I feel terrible about it, but I retrieve Plutarch's handkerchief from where I dropped it and use it to wipe between my legs. I crumble the used cloth in my hand. I'll still need to find a bathroom, soon. Peeta seems embarrassed as he pulls his jeans up and buckets his belt, stepping backwards and leaning against the column when he does.

I smooth down the skirt of my dress, but the slick and sore feeling between my legs can't be helped. When I look back up at him, Peeta looks into my eyes. I stare back, unable to put words to my thoughts.

"That was-"

"There you are!" A figure appears at the end of the archway corridor and I push myself off of the column, dropping the cloth and pushing it away with my foot. I tear my eyes off of Peeta just as Plutarch approaches. He stops beside me and once again offers me his elbow. "It's time I return you," he says.

"Yes, of course." I accept his arm and turn back to Peeta. "It was nice to meet you," I tell him.

"Yeah." He shakes his head, suddenly understanding the situation. Enough of it, anyway. "I mean, yes. I've enjoyed the pleasure of your company."

"Another time then." I nod my head and allow Plutarch to lead me away.

I'm escorted back to the training center, and when I reach my suite, I collapse onto the bed. Thoughts of Peeta swirl in my mind before I finally fall asleep.

* * *

><p>Are you into it?<p>

The second chapter is all Katnick. It's already beta'd & preread and will be uploaded next Wednesday. My betas have chapters 3 and 4 on their plate already too, so there's a good chunk of story coming at you :) Be sure to follow me on tumblr, bitcheslovesprinkles, for updates on this fic and all my other stories.


	2. The Morning After

_Who saw Mockingjay Part 1? The Hanging Tree song is stuck in my head. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, even the heartbreaking scene at the end...my only real complaint was that Finnick's speech was glossed over. That's okay, Finnick. I love you. And here's a story thats all about you._

_I have made is clear that this is a **Katnick** story, right? That there's going to be a Peeta/Katniss/Finnick love triangle and I haven't written the end yet (currently drafting chapter 7), so I don't know who's gonna get the girl. That means if you're a diehard Everlark shipper, you're in the wrong place. Don't read this! Really._

_Mockingjayflyingfree beta'd, Diana_Flynn preread, and Chelzie ran a grammar check. My ladies, what would I do without you?_

* * *

><p><strong>The Morning After<strong>

I can tell it's late when I wake, even with the heavy curtains blocking out the sunlight. Nobody disturbed me. The clock beside my bed says 12:42 p.m. but I'm still tired. My stomach growls and I'm not even a little bit surprised. I force myself up.

I'm still wearing what I wore last night, still sore, still used - with cum and blood dried to my skin. I slept on top of the blankets and didn't even bother to take off my shoes. I peel off my clothing as I go to the bathroom and quickly find a shower setting that almost smells like soap. I wash away the evidence of last night. I try to remind myself that I chose for that to go the way it did. That being fucked for the first time, outdoors and against a cement column, was something I asked for.

Wasn't it?

If Peeta and I met under different circumstances, I can say with certainty that I would _not_ have had sex with him so quickly. I shake my head at myself. I can't even remember his last name.

With a towel wrapped around my body, I step out of the shower and into my bedroom. An avox must have come while I was in there, because my previously empty wardrobe is now full. But it's disappointing - all that's in here are pencil skirts and button down blouses. The colors give the illusion of variety, but it's pretty clear that I have a _uniform. _I choose to wear all black today, even though I know it betrays my mood.

I step into an empty victors' suite. The common area is filled with rich wooden furniture - both couches and chairs - with oversized comfortable looking cushions that are scattered around the room. There are candles that have clearly been burned and a large fireplace.

Haymitch is napping on one of the couches. There's an empty glass next to him, and I'm pretty sure he'll be out for a while. He's got one of those flat computers on his chest, a tablet he called it. I decide he won't mind if I borrow it.

There's a small set of stairs, leading to a half floor and a large, oval table in the center of the platform. I sit down at the table and moments later, an avox appears offering me a small bowl of lamb stew and a glass of water with two white pills beside it. I don't know what kind of pills they are, but refusing to take them is probably not an option. I'm relieved when they don't instantly make me feel drugged. Perhaps they're just aspirin. I search for my name in the Training Center database and quickly find a file that was created during the Games. I enjoy the stew, and only a few moments peace before the silence fades.

"Girl on Fire!"

I roll my eyes as I hear the voice of Finnick Odair. I thought I was the only one here. "Finnick," I say dryly. I don't bother to look up at him.

"I know you missed me, Katniss, but do try to contain your excitement."

When I look up at him, the sight of him smiling at me catches me off guard. Damn. He's beautiful. He's wearing a white linen shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He's worn that before, and I wonder whether that's _his_ uniform. The tips of his hair are wet. He must've just gotten out of the shower.

"How was your first assignment?" he asks.

I shrug my shoulders, still looking through the file. It's a spreadsheet of some kind, with a list of sponsors - names, addresses, occupations, and their donation amounts. "Are they all night time events like that?"

"Night time events? You didn't work this morning?"

"No." I shake my head.

"That's different," he says as he sits down next to me. "Most of us are actually on assignment right now. I just got back myself."

"Oh..." I set the tablet down on the table. "Who sponsored you during your Games?" I ask.

Finnick raises his eyebrows at me. "You want to talk about the Games? You only won a few weeks ago."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Me? No. I've had years to deal."

"Well, I don't have time to wallow." I tap on the tablet in front of me. "80% of my sponsors were educators. Teachers, librarians, media specialists. There's even a curator from the Capitol's largest art museum listed. What stands out most are the college professors. Capitol University employees alone raised over half of the money that got me out of there."

"You got _yourself_ out of there," he reminds me. He picks up the tablet and I watch his eyes dart back and forth as he reads. He sets it back down on the table. "Okay, so?"

"So I can't help but notice the trend." I lean back in my chair. "The man who requested my company last night was one of the Deans at Capitol U."

Finnick smiles. "You catch on quick."

"What do you mean?"

He chuckles once. "Socialites." He nods his head. "That's my clientele."

"Who decides that?"

"Who you have to fuck?" I take a deep breath and nod my head. "It's based on whoever pays for your company."

"Isn't there any way to negotiate?" I'm thinking out loud here, but Finnick seems amused.

"There can be."

"So, my clientele could be all academics?" That could certainly explain my wardrobe. Pencil skirts and button-down blouses are different from what Finnick's crowd might typically wear. But I fit right in at last night's reading, among educators and politicians.

Finnick opens his mouth to answer when another avox arrives, a different one, bearing a single white envelope on a silver tray. He raises his eyebrows in surprise as the envelope is placed in front of me. I tense, nervous that my next assignment won't allow the same level of freedom as the last. But I bravely reach for the envelope anyway and open the card, feeling Finnick's gaze on me. I furrow my brow as I read. This can't be good.

"Is something wrong?"

I tuck the message back into the envelope. "Snow wants to see me," I explain.

The peacekeepers arrive, as if on cue. Finnick fails to hide his concern as he watches them lead me away.

X

The smell of roses fills the air, but it's not like the roses in 12. The smell is too sweet, too potent. It doesn't smell right at all. Just barely hidden by the sickly sweet odor of the obviously manipulated roses, there's something bitter. Metallic.

Blood.

I enter Snow's office though a set of French doors, and follow the hallway that leads to the main room. The walls are an almost blinding shade of white in here, and so is the furniture. A large bouquet of white roses sits in a crystal vase on his desk. They look eerily perfect.

I stand, watching the President, as I wait for him to acknowledge me.

"Come in, Miss Everdeen. Please, have a seat."

I try to keep my steps as silent as possible as I approach his desk, and claim one of the two chairs on the other side.

"I believe congratulations are in order."

Congratulations? For murdering people? I want to be offended, but who the hell am I kidding? No decent person ever wins the Games. "Thank you." I force a smile.

"I trust you're feeling well?"

"I am. My doctors cleared me two days ago."

"And your first assignment was last night," he adds.

I don't mean to, but I hesitate. "Y-yes."

"How did it go?" he asks.

I tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "Well, I think."

"Do you feel that Dr. Heavensbee was satisfied with your services?"

"Yes." I hope Snow doesn't know that we didn't do any of the things that were listed on the card.

Snow picks up a piece of paper from his desk and reads aloud. "Intelligent and sexy. Would love the pleasure of her company again soon." Snow's eyes flicker back up to mine and almost startle me. "The only other victor whose _intelligence_ has been reported back to me is Dr. Beetee. So tell me, Miss Everdeen. From the services you provide, how exactly would he become familiar with your level of intelligence?"

I open my mouth to answer, but I don't find the words.

The projection device on his desk flickers on, and video from last night appears. Myself, dancing with Dr. Heavensbee, then later at the table, surrounded by a group of men, commanding their attention.

"Seems your evening went better than 'well,' wouldn't you say?" I nod my head. "Even our head gamemaker has requested the pleasure of your company." I try to hide the shiver that goes through me.

"That's not surprising," I mutter.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I just said I'm not surprised that Dr. Crane would request my company. After all, many of my sponsors were from Capitol U."

"Yes...interesting that you know that."

I clamp my mouth shut. Am I not supposed to know that? Or am I not supposed to try to find out?

"I'll admit that when your file first crossed my desk, I misinterpreted the situation as standard. Ordinary, even. But this," he taps on the paper, "is anything but. _This_ gets my attention."

"Your attention, sir?"

He leans back and grasps the arms of his chair in his hands. "Do you know what Panem's most intelligent men crave?" I shake my head no. "It's the company of a fine woman. One who can challenge and engage them. A woman who can stimulate their desire for rich conversation, and who is also well-trained in the exquisite _art_ of pleasure."

"Oh."

"It's a demand I regrettably have failed to meet to this point. None of the other victors quite piqued the interest of this particular clientele the way you have."

"Me, sir?"

"Indeed."

I hear the door open behind us, and I turn to see Beetee standing at the end of the corridor. He shifts his weight uneasily. I don't suppose being summoned by Snow gets easier over time.

"Miss Everdeen, you're familiar with Dr. Christophe Beetee, aren't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Dr. Beetee holds Degrees in biochemistry and biomedical engineering from the Panem University of Technology in District 3. He also holds an honorary doctorate from Capitol University, since of course, being from the districts, he was not eligible for traditional candidacy."

"It's nice to see you again," I say as I nod my head towards Dr. Beetee. We've only met very briefly, at a social function with some of the other victors right after I was released from the hospital. It was my introduction, so to speak, to the victor group. Much like everything else has been, with the pace of my schedule the past two days, it's a blurry memory for me at best.

"Likewise."

"I'd like you to spend some time with Dr. Beetee. If you are indeed as intelligent as they say you are, then I'd like to propose a different sort of arrangement for you. One that will allow you to fulfill your civic duties to mutual satisfaction. We'll hold off on your assignments for a few days until we've had the chance to assess the situation."

I nod my head, though in not sure what I'm consenting to.

"That will be all, Miss Everdeen."

X

I've never had a full length mirror before, not even when I was being prepped for the games. Yet here I stand, staring at the woman I've become, allowing Snow's words to play over and over in my head.

What men crave. Somehow, I am what men crave.

I tilt my head to the side, studying my face. I'm nothing special. My skin is too dark to be called lovely. My eyes are too gray to be thought unique. My hair is too wild. My chin is too strong. I could go on forever about what I don't like.

Frustrated in thought, I pout my lips. I relax my scowl and take note of the shape of my mouth. I smile slightly. I lick my lips. I blow a kiss at the mirror. I like what I see. Lips that can deliver on Snow's promise. Lips that can provide conversation. Lips that can provide pleasure.

If only I knew how.

During tribute training, I remember rolling my eyes at Symon when he stumbled on a certain database on Effie's tablet. "Capitol's Most Wanted" was neither a criminal database nor a shopping site. It was pornography.

I access the database. It briefly crosses my mind that Haymitch will find out what I've been doing with his tablet, but I don't care. I need to see.

I select a video that begins simply enough. The woman is random, but I recognize the man - a Capitolite model. The woman kneels in front of him and takes him in her mouth. She's using her hands on him, eagerly working on his body. But then she pulls away and looks up at him with a smirk... And I notice something. His head is thrown back in passion. He's vulnerable, completely at her mercy. And she loves it. That's when I wonder... Behind the duty, beneath the obligation, is there also power?

I select another video without reading the title. Another random woman. But, this time the roles are reversed. She's putty, reduced to a mess of writhing and moaning with a man's head between her legs.

"Interesting," I muse aloud.

"What is?"

I startle at the noise, fumbling for the off button, but all I manage to do is increase the volume. By the time I look up and lock eyes with Finnick, the embarrassment has taken over and my words are barely coherent. "Wh-what are you? I mean, don't you? Can't you _knock_?"

Finnick smiles. "Your door is unlocked." He gestures to the tablet on the bed next to me that's still producing feral sounds of passion. "She sure sounds like she's enjoying that, huh?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Not my best performance, certainly. I prefer to eat pussy slower than that."

"_What_?" My eyes dart down to the screen, and sure enough, the man with his face pressed between the woman's thighs is Finnick. "Oh, shit," I mutter quietly as I search for the off button again. "I didn't know it was you."

Finnick moves closer. His hand brushes against mine as he reaches for the tablet and shuts off the video.

"Sorry," I say.

"What for?"

"I didn't mean to watch you-"

"All of Panem has watched me." He chuckles bitterly, but his expression softens quickly enough. He holds my gaze as he take two steps back, and I'm grateful for the space between us.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I was just coming to check on you. You know, since Snow wanted to meet with you."

"Oh." I sigh. "Thank you. It was fine, I think."

"Was he pleased with your client's feedback?"

I nod my head and lower my eyes. "He wants to have more appointments like that. With public interaction."

Finnick looks surprised at me. "You had public interaction?"

"Yes. My client took me to a reading at Capitol University."

"That's interesting. Only a few of us are event escorts."

"Snow said this would be different. That I will be expected to be able to stimulate my clients intellectually as well as... you know."

"I do."

"That's why I was watching that video. I was looking for help with technique or something." I watch a smile spread across his face. "I didn't know it was you," I repeat.

"I believe you," he answers with a slow nod of his head. "And if you want any help with _technique_, all you have to do is ask."

"Help from _you_?" I furrow my brow. "You mean you'll...?" I gesture between us.

"Of course. If it will help." He kneels down in front of me. "I told you I'll help you through this."

His takes his hand in mine and I look into his eyes. This is probably not a good idea. I open my mouth with a no on my tongue. But... if I'm expected to master the art of pleasure, then who better really to help me hone those skills? The awkwardness has passed already, it's already on the table. I'm not sure I want to bring this up with anyone else.

I'm shaking my head from side to side, unsure of my answer. "Okay."

X

"Yeah, just like that." Finnick doesn't tense or sigh or give any physical indication - other than his hard cock - that I'm doing this right.

We're still in my room, his clothes neatly folded in a pile next to mine. There was no passion, no hurried disrobing. He's here to help me. He's here to mentor me.

"Keep your left hand on my hip." I bring my hand up. He moves his hips, thrusting into my open mouth. "Push back if you need to. Control how of much of me you take in."

I pull back, releasing him from between my lips and nodding at his advice. He kneels down in front of me. "If they cum in your mouth, never swallow it. They can't request that." I nod my head again. "And never give head on your back."

"What do I do if my hands are tied?"

"You say orange. Give them a chance to fix things before you go straight to red. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Sit back." Finnick's hand is on my shoulder and he pushes me to sit on my ass. His hands are on my knees, urging them apart.

"Nice," he muses as he looks at me. "You got wet from sucking on my-" I gasp and try to close my legs as he drags his fingers over my folds. Finnick's eyes meet mine, but I look away, ashamed. "It's a physical reaction, Katniss. There's no shame in it feeling good. It doesn't have to mean anything."

He taps on my knee with his free hand and I slowly open for him again. "If I touch you here..." I bite my lip to suppress a moan. "And I do it right, you _should_ get wet. There's nothing wrong with that." His eyes drift down my body and stop between my legs. "You have a nice pussy." He presses two fingers into me, and my eyes widen in surprise. His fingers are thick, and I'm still sore from last night. But he's gentle, and it feels good. "And you're tight."

"I like that," I sigh as his thumb draws circles over my clit.

"Good." He smiles, but it quickly fades as he lifts his head and finds my eyes. "Damn, look at how you're looking at me." He shakes his head seemingly in disbelief.

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like you want me." I feel the corners of my lips turn upward but I don't answer. "You look at them like that and they're all going to _want_ to make you feel good."

"Do _you_ want to make me feel good?"

He smiles softly at me, his fingers pumping into me perfectly. "I wouldn't mind it." I feel my body tighten instinctively around his fingers. He's turning me on. He looks back down between my legs. "If I didn't know you were with someone last night, I would swear you're a virgin."

I shake my head, trying to clear my head of thoughts of Peeta. "I'm not."

"You're tighter than anything I've felt in years." His eyes widen, as if he didn't mean to say that out loud. He clears his throat as he withdraws his fingers. "Sometimes they're going to want to use their mouths on you," he continues.

"I don't want them to." As if I have a choice in the matter.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Because I don't want them to see me like that." I gesture to the tablet on the bed. "I don't want to be vulnerable."

Finnick gives me a knowing look. "You can seem vulnerable without actually being so. Most of the time, they'll want to eat you out before they want head, and before they fuck you. So you'll have the chance to shift the balance of power back. The services they signed up for will be listed on their card so you can plan ahead, but I have a feeling that your clients might not request going down on you at first, then change their minds once they see you."

"Why is that?"

"Like I said, you've got a nice pussy." He looks away. Is he blushing? "And your body responds well to being touched." He brings his thumb and index finger up and I watch in awe as he rubs my wetness between them. "It's all in knowing what to expect. If you do, you won't lose control." He lowers his head, and his fingers are between my legs again. I gasp as I feel him spread me open.

"Ohhh!"

"See, I haven't even started, and I can see you getting wetter."

I wonder what exactly he plans to start. "Is that bad?"

"Getting wet? No, that's not bad at all." He's closer now, and I can feel his breath on my skin. "Licking is okay, sucking is okay..." He demonstrates, and I find myself reaching down and holding him in place. He sucks hard on my clit, and I whimper.

He taps on my hands and I release him with an apology. "It's okay, I know it feels good. You need to learn what's going to make you produce sounds like that, so you can control it. Maybe even avoid it."

"How do I avoid it?"

"Physical cues like shifting away, or verbal cues like asking to do something else. Only make sounds you're in control of."

His head dips again and I hold my breath as he sucks on my clit again. It lasts a few seconds before I force out a groan. One of dissatisfaction and borderline disgust. One that forces him to release me right away and chuckle against me. "You learn fast."

I exhale a shaky breath.

He looks up at me and licks his lips. "But I can tell from how wet that made you that you liked it." His voice is even and I can't tell if his words are anything more than a statement of fact.

"I liked it," I confirm.

"You won't like all of it," he cautions. His head is between my legs again, licking me slowly, encouraging me to open for him. And I do. "The instant you feel this-"

"Ow!" I try to close my legs again, but he holds me open.

"Sorry, sorry. I won't do that again. Now you know what biting feels like, and that is absolutely _unacceptable_. You say red, right away."

"Okay."

"They're not to leave any marks on you. Snow would have a fit." When his breath is hot against my center again I tense, but relax as he presses his lips to the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, kissing me gently. He does it again, moving closer to where I want him most. A moment later I'm met with his soft tongue moving up the length of my slit. He's licking me slowly, massaging me just right. "Better?"

"Mmmm, much," I say as I lean back and rest on my elbows. He's just making up for that bite. I expect this to last another second or two before he pulls away, but he doesn't. "Finnick," I say, meaning for it to be a question. But I hear the desperation in my voice, and feel my body's reaction to him. I widen my knees as I watch him work and feel his hands slide down, cupping my ass and lifting me up. His eyes are locked onto mine as he devours me at a new delicious angle.

It seems my lesson is over for today.

He's licking me slowly, just the way he said he prefers to do this. "You taste good," he says against me. His voice is deep and the vibrations cause my stomach muscles to tense. My mouth falls open as he takes another taste of me, and I rock my hips against him. His tongue dips into me and when he pulls back, he uses the tip to flick against my clit.

"Oooh," I moan, not caring how I sound. It feels so damn good.

"Hey, Sweetheart, what are you-" the door swings open. "Aw, what the damn hell is going on in here?"

I reach for my shoe and hurl it at the door. "Can't you knock, you old bastard?"

Finnick laughs as he lifts his head and lowers me back to the floor. "Your door _was_ unlocked." I can't help but groan in frustration.

"I didn't know you'd be in here fucking Odair."

"I'm _not_ fucking Odair. He was just showing me some stuff."

"Whatever, kid." His eyes rake over my exposed body. "You look good."

"Shut up."

"You've got a nice pussy."

"That's what I said," Finnick agrees.

"Get out, Haymitch!" I all but screech.

"Fine, but get dressed. We need to talk about your meeting with Snow."

He shuts the door and I drop back down on the floor and cover my eyes with the heels of my hands. How did I get here? 24 hours ago, I was a virgin. I lift my head to find Finnick still between my knees, staring down between my legs, but he doesn't touch me. I should feel embarrassed by the way he's looking at me. But when he brings his fingertips, still wet with my juices, to his lips, he lights that fire in my belly again.

"Guess I should let you get ready," he says, but he doesn't move.

"Finnick?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to...?"

His eyes drift up to mine and then back down to where I feel myself getting wetter for him. "We shouldn't."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"It seemed like you wanted to a minute ago."

"I know. I'm sorry." He's apologizing, but his hands are on me again, slowly sliding from my knees to my ass.

"It'll feel good," I tell him and I moan again as he squeezes my flesh. "There's no shame in it feeling good. Right?" I echo as I reach for him. He moves, hovering over me and looking down into my eyes as he settles between my legs. The tip of his cock drags through my folds and his face twists in pleasure.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he whispers.

"No," I agree.

He lowers his body, burying himself inside of me with one hard thrust, and we both moan in relief. He moves in me slowly, never taking his eyes off of mine.

Before it's over, I already know... this _does_ mean something.

* * *

><p>Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow to those of you in the States.<p>

Oh and a Friendly reminder that the Open Enrollment period for ehealth coverage for 2015 is November 15, 2014 to February 15, 2015. Too many of us don't have coverage. Everyone's entitled to health insurance in the U.S. If you don't think you can afford it, find out if you are eligible for a subsidy to help cover the costs. Learn more here: www dot dpbolvw dot net/click-7699320-10359792

Chapter 3 of Generosity will be uploaded next Wednesday!


	3. No Relief in Waking

_There are still a few people not understanding, so I'll say it once again: __**This is a Katnick story. Finnick is the leading man. There will be a Katniss/Peeta/Finnick love triangle. **__I know y'all can read! So check the tags and authors notes. No one should be surprised._

__The end isn't written yet, and it could go in either direction. _If when we get deeper into the story you, my readers who actually read the story, feel it's an Everlark story after all I will absolutely take that into consideration when writing the end. But right now, I just don't know. If you can't handle that, then please stop reading._

_My best gal Mockingjayflying free beta'd. Queen of smut Diana_Flynn preread. Grammar maven Chelzie did her thing. I'm so lucky to have such wonderful ladies put their time talent and resources into me and my story. Thank you!_

__Spoiler: Peeta will be back in chapter 5__

* * *

><p><strong>No Relief in Waking<strong>

_My breath is heavy and my heart is beating fast._

_The cannon sounds. Rue's body is lifeless at my feet, and behind Cato, Marvel is struggling to pull my arrow from his throat. I didn't miss. I know it's only a matter of seconds before the cannon will sound again._

_I look into Cato's eyes. My string is taut. I'm ready to let the next arrow fly. Cato can't stop it, not even if he tries. The sound of Marvel struggling grows quieter. He whimpers and sputters as blood fills his lungs. He's drowning in it. I feel my lips curl up in a smile at the sound._

_The staring contest between Cato and I is nothing short of epic. I can't even remember the last time 12 and 2 faced off like this. Somewhere in my mind, I'm aware that we have an audience. I pout my lips for him, for them, daring him to move. He'll be dead before he can get to me and he knows it._

_Another cannon._

_"Seems like I could use a new ally." But his grip on his sword doesn't loosen._

_I narrow my eyes. _

_"And so could you," he gestures with his weapon down to Rue. "Clove is deadly with knives, isn't she?"_

_"I'll kill her as soon as I see her," I warn._

_Cato shrugs his shoulders. "Fine by me." He lowers his sword and extends his hand out to me. I could kill him now. I __should__ kill him now that I have the chance. He's an animal. He's vicious. But... he's also loyal. And maybe he knows how to find Clove. Cato is right, she__'__s one of the top contenders this year. I need her dead._

_"Until 2, 5, 11, and 12 are gone," he offers._

_I lower my bow. I nod my head once. "Until then."_

_His smile fades to a sneer. His teeth are exposed and they're sharp. His eyes glow a terrible red. And before I can lift my arrow and aim it at his heart, he lunges. My body is propelled back and before I hit the ground, his teeth sink into my throat._

X

"No!" I scream as I sit up, dragging myself out of my nightmare. I'm sweating and panting as I blink quickly, forcing the forest away.

They didn't send mutts into the arena. Why am I dreaming about them?

It feels like the walls are closing in on me. I need to get out of this room. I wrap a short robe around myself and fling the door open.

The victors are gathered around the dining table. Johanna and Blight sit next to each other but don't speak. Gloss and Cashmere are enjoying their own conversation. Three other victors I know from TV but haven't been formally introduced to yet, are also present - Cecilia from 8, Sapphire from 2, and Angelo from 6 - all wordlessly push their food around their plates. Haymitch sits at the end of the table, sipping from his flask. They're all still dressed in their sleeping clothes. So, I join them.

I sit at the opposite end of the table from Finnick. I don't look at him, but I can feel his gaze on me. I don't want to meet his eyes. They'll only remind me of what we did last night. They'll only remind me that I want to do it again. I try focusing on Haymitch, but he's just complaining about why he's still here. I roll my eyes. It's not like there's anything waiting for him back in 12 anyway.

The avoxes arrive and set our breakfast down in front of us. I grimace at what I'm offered. A small portion of plain oatmeal, half a banana, and some tea. Weeks ago, before the games, this would've seemed like a feast. But now... am I being put on a diet?

"High in fiber. Keeps the highway moving," Finnick says across the table. I look up and watch him spoon some of his identical meal into his mouth and smile. It's an innocent enough gesture, but as predicted, looking into his eyes causes my stomach to twist. I look away without another word.

Cashmere notices. Her eyes dart between us and her brow knits together. Gloss makes small talk with me while his sister clearly tries to assess the situation. I keep my answers short without giving too much away.

The avoxes return a few minutes later with white envelopes on silver trays. Today, there are envelopes for everyone. Finnick sighs as he claims his, then pushes away from the table.

I try not to... But I watch him leave.

My envelope confirms what I already knew was coming, that I will spend time with Beetee today. But what I didn't know is that I am expected to take - and pass - a high school equivalency exam.

One by one, the victors finish their meals and begin their days. I'm the last at the table. The avox who delivered our envelopes returns, carrying a vase full of yellow sunflowers, carnations, and dandelions. She sets it down in front of me. I have to remind myself not to thank her for her efforts.

I reach for the card and am surprised to find they are from Plutarch Heavensbee.

_Miss Everdeen,_

_Thank you for the pleasure of your company. _

_I'll be keeping an eye on you._

_-Plutarch_

I smile. His words don't seem like a threat. They seem comforting somehow. As if someone is actually looking out for me. But why?

X

My prep team is waiting for me when I get back to my room. Cinna takes one look at my nails, and the damage I supposedly caused in only a couple of days, and decides to increase my grooming sessions from one to three times a week. I don't argue. I lean back and let him pick at me. I find the manicure he gives me to be relaxing. At first anyway. Cinna sighs deeply and then files my nails down until they're paper thin and there's no white left.

By the time I get dressed and step back out into the common room, Haymitch is already passed out on the couch again. So I steal his tablet and search for classes in Capitol U's database. I have to admit, the idea of an education is starting to appeal to me. It could be something to do, something actually valuable that the Capitol could provide me with that I couldn't hope for in 12. I check out several departments, and I imagine what it would be like to study in each. I imagine the types of people I could learn from. The types of people I could learn with.

I search for Peeta, but Peeta is a surprisingly common name in the Capitol. The Art History department alone has 8 Peetas matriculating, and I can't remember his last name. It's just as well. What would I say to him anyway?

I give up and try to watch some television, but it's either highlights from my Games or some other stupid propaganda. Finally, I decide to call home. I need to hear Prim's voice and know she's alright. The phone only rings once before I hear Prim's voice on the other end.

"Katniss?"

"How'd you know it was me?" I ask.

"Who else would it be?"

I could practically hear her smile. I feel a little lighter because if it. "How's the new house?" She and my mother were moved into the Victor's Village during my recovery. I haven't been home yet, so I haven't seen it. The houses in Victor's Village are all identical, but my mother and Prim chose the one two doors down from Haymitch. The buffer of an empty building between them ought to keep the smell of alcohol out of the air. And even though I was in a hospital bed and hopped up on morphling, I could've sworn I heard Haymitch tell Finnick that he plans to raise geese. I choose not to think about how that is going to work.

"It's really nice. There's a lot of stuff here. Furniture that's really big and comfortable. There's even food in the fridge."

I sigh in relief. Everything I've done has been to protect my little sister. To make sure she's safe and happy. I can't save her from the next reaping, but I can keep her warm and well fed, and stop her from having to take out tesserae. Though... I'm starting to wonder whether the reapings are rigged. What would that mean for Prim if they are?

"When are you coming home?"

"I'm not sure yet. Soon, I hope."

She doesn't force the issue. She talks about Buttercup and how he's getting thinner since there aren't many rats for him to feast on outside of the Seam. I listen to her voice and enjoy her laughter. But when I hang up the phone, I feel terribly disconnected again.

X

I drag myself to the 3rd floor of the training center, to where Beetee, as he insists I call him, is currently expecting me.

The room is sterile. And I mean _sterile_. I didn't kill the boy from 3 - Cato did - but I certainly set him up for death by using his minefield trap to my advantage. I don't suppose it matters much now. There's no trace of him here. There's no trace of anyone.

Beetee points to a desk with a thick stack of papers on it. "You have 90 minutes for the first part of the exam."

A few minutes later, I stare at the words on the paper and I feel my face twist in frustration.

_The government of Panem may restrict the rate of interdistrict migration. These restrictions on are most likely based on what belief?_

Huh?

_A. The economy of Panem can support an unlimited number of people._

What the hell?

_B. The __"__push__" __factors justify most migration._

_C. The district citizens enrich the culture of a country._

_D. Panem has a limited number of jobs and services._

_E. The government of Panem should not interfere with the migration of district citizens._

I circle D. It's the only thing that sort of makes sense. I shake my head, and flip the page. Perhaps I'll have better luck in the sciences.

X

I don't go back to the victors' suite. Not yet, anyway. Instead, I wander the training center. It looks so different than it did when I first arrived here. Surely the lack of peacekeeper escort helps my perspective, but just the same, it feels different.

It's quieter. That's the first thing I notice. There are no more crowds in the streets, heightening the ambient noise. I'm not sure when they cleared out of here, when holding their breath for my interview grew tiresome. It took me weeks to heal from my injuries in the arena, even with the Capitol's best doctors. Before I teamed up with Cato, I destroyed the careers' food pile and blew off my ear, rendering myself half deaf in the process. They say my new ear had to be grown on the back of a rat. They say that it took weeks.

The girl I was before the Games is gone. This feels like another life. I'm stumbling blindly through it, trying to make sense of who I am now.

My thoughts drift to Peeta. He was so sweet, so kind, so eerily familiar. He didn't want anything from me, so I gave him everything. I approach the exit on the ground floor, hoping to leave, go back to Capitol U and find him. But one of the peacekeepers presses an old time phone to his ear. Moments later, Effie appears, hooking her arm in mine and insisting upon showing me to the sleep room. I look longingly over my shoulder, as the exit grows further away, and ignore her excited spiel about the _sleep_ _pods_ equipped with the newest in Capitol sleep technology, because it's suddenly so very important that I get proper rest.

"Thank you, Effie," I say, as I pretend she's not still playing the role of escort. That she wasn't summoned to keep me here.

I'm desperate for human contact, for a warm body to press myself against as I step onto the elevator. That's when my thoughts drift back to Finnick... and the brief tryst we shared last night. My walls were still sore from the obviously inexperienced fucking I received from Peeta, but I didn't care. I wanted Finnick inside of me. And the moment he was, I felt truly connected to him. He's here, in this building, but he probably doesn't want to see me. He made it clear that his loyalty lies elsewhere. And just because he had a moment of weakness doesn't mean I can go laying all of my hang ups on him.

It's late when I return to the victors' suite. I can hear laughing in the common area, but I'm exhausted and head straight for my room. I stop in my tracks when I find Finnick sitting outside my door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see how your day went," he says as he pushes himself to stand.

"It was fine."

"Did you have a client?"

"No, I had testing with Beetee."

I try to step around him, but he moves, keeping himself in front of me. When I look up at his face, his expression is unreadable.

"What is it?" I ask.

"We should speak in private."

His face is hard, still not betraying his emotions. I nod my head and he steps aside, allowing me to unlock the door to my room.

"Make yourself at home," I say as I set my keys onto the table. The door slams shut behind us. "All of these rooms look alike anyway."

He looks around at the bare walls. "Mine is a little more lived in." His eyes widen as he spots the vase of flowers on the end table next to the bed.

"You've been a victor longer," I point out as I stand in front of the dresser. I look at myself in the mirror as I remove my jewelry. I have _no_ nails. The pads of my fingers press uncomfortably against the metal. Setting down my earring, I notice that my mockingjay pin is missing. Where could it be?

"That's true. Are those from Snow?" He gestures to the flowers.

"They're from a client," I explain.

"Oh."

He frowns and seems to be thinking hard. It's almost like he's forgotten why he's here. "What did you want to talk about?" I ask.

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. "I just wanted to apologize for what happened between us yesterday." He moves closer, standing behind me. "When I help out a new victor, it usually doesn't go like that. I don't ever-" he cuts himself off. "I shouldn't have taken advantage of you. It was inappropriate of me."

"It's fine, Finnick." I wave a hand dismissively. "I'm the one who started it, remember? I asked you if you wanted to-"

"No, before that. I shouldn't have touched you the way I did." I meet his eyes in the mirror. "I shouldn't have-" He cuts himself off as he slowly licks his lips. Can he still taste me? "I should've stopped when I felt how... How..."

"How wet you made me?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"How wet I made you," he repeats. I lick my lips too, not expecting him to watch, but I have to admit, my heart beats faster when he does.

I spin around and look at him directly. "We're fine."

"Great." But he doesn't sound relieved.

I smile, expecting him to leave... but he doesn't move. "Was there anything else?"

"Yeah, uh... Haymitch mentioned that your first assignment was Plutarch Heavensbee?"

"Yes, it was." I sit on the edge of the bed and toe off my shoes.

Finnick folds his arms over his chest and shakes his head.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. I lean back, resting on my hands behind me.

"It's just that he wouldn't-" He cuts himself off. "Did you do _everything_ that was written on the card?"

"Yes, of course," I say.

"With Plutarch?"

I stare at him, and don't answer right away. When I do, I simply shake my head.

He sits down beside me and mouths the words, "say yes" as he points to a corner of the room. I furrow my brow. Is this place bugged?

"Yes," I oblige. "I don't think you should be asking me this."

He rolls his eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry," he says dryly.

"It's none of your business," I continue.

"None," he agrees. But he's moving closer.

"I'm not a little girl and I'm not your-" He moves quickly, grabbing my face with both hands and kissing me hard on the mouth. I bring my hands up to cover his and look at him, bewildered. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure," he admits. But then he's kissing me again, holding me in place and sliding his tongue between my lips. I open my mouth and let him have me. Our tongues move together and he leaves no part of me undiscovered. When he pulls away, I'm short of breath. He's looking deeply into my eyes and stroking my cheek with his thumbs.

"You said we shouldn't do this," I remind him.

"I did."

"You said it wasn't supposed to mean anything."

He leans in again, kissing my lips gently. "Then tell me it didn't."

But it did. Apparently we both felt it. I open my mouth and wait for words to come, but they don't. Words have never been my strong suit anyway.

"It felt good," he says, as he nips at my bottom lip, causing me to gasp. "It felt right."

When he kisses me again, it's slower. His hands drift down my body and when he tugs on my hip, I move. He encourages me onto his lap. I straddle him with my knees on either side of his body and lower myself down, feeling his growing erection between my legs.

"I can't stop thinking about the way you felt wrapped around my cock." I moan as his hands squeeze my ass. _Yes_. This is exactly what I need. "Did you like what I did to you?"

"Yes."

"What did you like?"

"I liked when you put your tongue inside of me." I'm grinding down on him now. My eyes are closed as I move against him.

"I liked that, too." He leans forward and swipes at my lips once with his tongue and I smile.

"I liked when you put my legs over your shoulders. Fuck, you came so deep inside of me."

"I had to. You felt too good."

It did feel good. But only moments later, before my breath had evened out, he pulled out of me, muttering an apology... and not to me.

"Stop," I say. "This is wrong." I pull away. But he leans in, trailing kisses across my collarbone.

"No, it's not," he says as he begins to unbutton my blouse, kissing my skin as he exposes it. I moan as he tucks a hand into my bra, freeing a mound and circling his tongue, causing my skin to pebble.

"You have a girlfriend," I assert. He stops his movements. "Don't you?"

His breath is warm against my nipple. "Why do you think that?"

"Last night. After. You said a name." His brow is furrowed as I swallow hard. "You apologized... To _Annie_."

"Oh... I'm sorry I said that, _Katniss_." He says my name deliberately. He kisses the exposed skin between my breasts, and even though I know I should, I don't stop him.

"Who is she?"

He pulls his lips from my skin and rests his forehead against my chest. "She was my fiancée."

"Was?"

He nods against me. "She's gone."

"Gone?"

"Passed away, last spring."

"Oh."

Finnick exhales loudly against my skin. "Can we talk about this later?" I nod and he presses two kisses between my breasts before I'm overwhelmed with emotion again. I swing my leg around and climb off of him, tucking my breasts back into my bra as I step backwards. Finnick falls back on my bed with a loud groan.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"Don't apologize."

"You don't want me."

"I want you," I correct him, surprising even myself. His head lifts up and I have his full attention. "I _do_ want you. It's just- I think I'm tired. I think I need to step back and process it all."

His face softens. "Right."

"The Games, recovering... All this testing... then us."

"I get it."

"It's a lot."

"Yes, it is. I didn't mean to be inconsiderate."

"You're not. It's just, I was a virgin, and then-"

"You were a _virgin_?" His brow furrows in confusion.

"Yeah."

I can almost hear the question on his lips. Who _did_ I give my virginity to? There's a short window of time between my conversation with Finnick and Haymitch at the hospital and what happened between us last night. Finnick knows it wasn't him. And even if I hadn't already confirmed with a shake of my head that we didn't do what it said on the card, Finnick somehow already knew that Plutarch Heavensbee wouldn't request those _services_ of me.

"Never tell me," he says, his voice unwavering. "If I ask you. Don't."

"Why not?"

"I have a feeling that if it comes up, the truth will do more harm than good." He leans in and kisses me softly. "I'll see you at breakfast, girl on fire."

"Don't go," I breathe. I look around, at the walls that seem to be closing in on me again. "I - I don't sleep very well. Would you... I mean, can you...?" I trail off. I'm not exactly sure what I'm asking for.

"Do you want me to hold you?"

I nod my head. "Would you?"

Finnick doesn't answer. But he lies down on the bed, and when I join him, he pulls my body close, tucking his knees behind mine.

Sleep doesn't come easily. And when it does, I still have nightmares.

* * *

><p>When I first drafted this story, Annie was alive and had a much bigger role. But then it got so complicated to factor her in with the pf/k triangle going on. Mockingjayflyingfree and I got into this huge debate (I know, we do that a lot) about Annie's _madness_ and in the end it was frustrating and took the story on a weird tangent. So, Annie had to go. We can talk about her fondly now lol

Another health insurance reminder. Open enrollment with ehealth is still going on. If you don't think you can afford it, find out if you are eligible for a subsidy to help cover the costs. Learn more here: www dot dpbolvw dot net/click-7699320-10359792

Chapter 4 coming at you next Wednesday :)


	4. Shoe to Drop

_No more disclaimers. If you haven't read my other warnings, I doubt you're reading this one anyway._

_The rest of you have been so kind in your reviews and comments! I'm so glad you're excited for this story, because I cannot stop writing it! Thank you so much for reading :) hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Mockingjayflyingfree beta'd, Diana_flynn preread, Chelzie fixed the grammar. They're the best._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Shoe to Drop<strong>

_I gasp as the knife zips past me. I barely got out of the way in time. _

_"Kill her, Cato," Clove whines._

_She doesn't know that Cato and I have a deal. "Why would he do that?" I lift my arms. My arrow is already in place._

_Clove__'__s fingers twitch as she prepares to throw another knife. She must know by now that I'm faster than she is. Two of her knives, failed attempts at killing me, are already tucked into my belt. They're mine now._

_Her eyes cut over to Cato. He looks between us before leaning back against a tree and picking at his nails with the tip of his sword._

_"Cato?" she asks._

_He doesn't answer. He doesn't even look up._

_"Cato?" She calls out to him, more desperately this time._

_I adjust my aim._

_"Why?" she asks, her voice sounding broken._

_"I'm sorry, baby," he says. Her eyes narrow as she realizes that he's betrayed her. "I made a better deal." _

_Guess he's not that loyal after all. Asshole. I can't wait to kill him. But first, I'll kill Clove._

_Her face twists in anger and her hand tightens around the handle of her knife. She screams, reeling back and I shoot straight, piercing her stomach just as the blade leaves her hand. She drops to her knees as the knife flies past me with a whoosh. She wasn__'__t even close to hitting me. The rest of her weapons fall in front of her, a cacophony of jingling metal and I smile. I thought killing humans would be more difficult, but it isn__'__t. That felt good. Natural._

_"Three more to go," I say. Thresh. Foxface. Symon. I turn my head to Cato and my eyes widen in surprise. Clove's knife is lodged squarely in his shoulder. Damn it._

_"Fuck," he grunts and sinks to his knees. His arm is dead at his side and he's breathing heavily. For a moment, I think he__'__s going to fall, but his career training quickly kicks in. He straightens his back and gets to his feet, only stumbling slightly. His eyes meet mine, and I see the determination in them. He lifts up his other arm. _

_"Don't-" I warn, but he pulls the knife out anyway. I roll my eyes. A steady stream of blood flows out from the wound, but the bleeding isn__'__t massive. Cato was lucky._

_"I'll be fine," he says. "Just need to wash up." I have to give it to him, he__'__s tough. That shoulder has to hurt like hell but the only indication that he__'__s in pain is a trickle of sweat on his forehead. I can__'__t help but be pleased, though. Clove just helped me weaken my strongest opponent._

_"The river__'__s that way," I point. I step over to Clove. She's still alive, still shaking, holding on tightly to the arrow in her stomach. _

_"Wh-why?" she asks._

_"You killed Rue," I explain. I was content to stay out of everyone's way. But the instant that little girl died, I was consumed with bloodlust._

_Clove shakes her head. "I didn't."_

_"I saw your knife."_

_"N-n-no..."_

_"I'm low on ammo." She furrows her brow. "You understand." She might not know it, but I__'__m doing her a favor. She__'__s dying, painfully with a wound to the gut. She could take half an hour to bleed out. I reach down and yank my arrow from her body, twisting the head as I do._

_Her mouth falls open, a trickle of blood escapes her lips and seconds later, the cannon goes off. I wipe the pointed tip in the ground, using the grass below me to clean off her blood. I really am low on ammunition. _

_"Bitch," Cato comments as he makes his way past me, headed towards the river._

_"You were the one fucking her," I comment. I gesture around us. "You do realize that there are cameras in here, right?"_

_Cato chuckles as he disappears into the trees. "They pay big money in the Capitol to see that, you know."_

_I furrow my brow. "To see what?" When I turn to follow him, I stop in my tracks. I can feel more than hear it, the low growl of a hungry animal. I load another arrow, but I'm too slow. I feel the sharp pain of teeth sinking into my ankle. I'm pulled to the floor, yelling Cato's name as the mutt drags me away._

X

I wake up screaming. But I'm not alone. Through the haze of the growls and the pain shooting through my leg, I hear his voice. I feel his arms. He's trying to reach me.

Finnick's arms are tight around me. He shushes me, kisses me, tells me he's here.

I open my eyes, and the forest around me fades away. My muscles feel tight and my throat is sore. I surrender.

Finnick exhales as my body goes limp in his arms, but he doesn't loosen his grip around me. He still holds me close, still whispers words I can't understand yet. But he soon goes quiet. I lie here on my back, in his arms, with his head pressed against my chest. I can't be certain, but I think he's listening to my heart.

"Thank you," I whisper.

He lifts his head and studies my face. He's surprised to find that I'm here. "You're back," he sighs and I furrow my brow.

"I didn't mean to worry you."

"Are you okay?" He leans in and kisses my lips.

"I'm okay now." When I kiss him back, he finally he loosens his grip on me. But I pull away. In the light of day, kissing him is confusing me.

X

I sit next to Finnick at breakfast.

Now that everyone has been on assignment, the mood is noticeably sadder than it was yesterday. The victors sit, sharing a meal together, and force small talk, as if we're all strangers. I'm the only real stranger, though. Except for maybe Sapphire from 2, since she only won last year.

But I don't feel like a stranger, not with Finnick's hand resting on my knee, squeezing gently through the awkward silence. Not with Johanna smirking knowingly as she looks between us.

Last night as he held me, Finnick told me about his fiancée, Annie Cresta, who won the Games five years ago. It was a particularly hard year on him. For the first time, Mags stayed in 4 for the Games, and he was the primary mentor. When he lost the male tribute in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, who was beheaded right in front of Annie, Finnick was certain that he was going home with nothing. No one thought Annie was even a contender, not even Finnick. She ran. She hid. He didn't send her any gifts, she had no sponsors. Then came the flood, and before he knew it, they deposited a new victor in front of him.

He took care of Annie, just like he's taking care of me now. He even fell in love with her. He says he never expected to, that she crept up on him. But she was damaged, he explained as he held me closer. He doesn't know whether it was from her Games or if it would've happened anyway, but -he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck and then admitted- he knew she wasn't going to get better.

It took a long time, but I fell asleep in his arms. It was the first time I shared a bed with anyone other than Prim.

The anticipation of the day's assignments is thick in the air. As the avoxes arrive, the victors quiet down. There are only four white envelopes to be presented this morning. Cashmere accepts hers with a frown. Cecilia fails to hide a scowl as she accepts hers. Finnick's face betrays no emotion as he accepts his, but his eyes dart over to me as an envelope is placed in front of me.

"I was told I'd have the day off to spend with my children," Cecilia says. Cashmere shushes her.

Cecilia forgets herself, grabbing onto the arm of the avox and shouting. "I'm not supposed to do this today!"

"Cecilia!" Cashmere pries her hand off of the avox, who quickly scurries away. "Have you lost your mind?"

Cecilia's eyes well up with tears. "He said I didn't have to do this as much. He said- he said-" she sniffles, trying to find the words.

"Calm down. Take it up with them this afternoon, okay?" Cashmere grabs Cecilia's chin and forces her to look at her. "_After_."

Cecilia nods and Cashmere releases her. She looks hopelessly around at all of us, but there's nothing we can do. She sits back down in her chair, defeated.

Finnick reads his assignment and sighs. "It could be worse," he mutters under his breath. His eyes drift back to mine. "I'll be back before dinner."

"Okay."

He stares at the envelope in front of me for a moment before turning and walking away.

When he's gone, I open my envelope and sigh in relief. I'm scheduled for etiquette training with Effie Trinket this afternoon.

X

Without a client or permission to leave the premises, I've got nothing to do until my appointment with Effie. I peel off my pajamas and hand them to an avox. I'm getting used to treating them as furniture, and I hate it. Then I get dressed. I sigh as I reach for a pink skirt, desperately missing my father's hunting jacket.

There's a knock at my door and when I open it, I find Johanna grinning at me. She looks past me, her eyes darting around my empty room.

"Finnick left already?"

"I don't know. Did you check his room?"

"I did."

"Then he probably left already," I confirm.

"Darn, I thought he might be in here, eating you out again."

I can feel the blood drain from my face. "How did you-"

"Haymitch." I roll my eyes. "He's an old bastard. Also, Blight says Finnick spent the night in here, but that couldn't be true. Could it? Finnick doesn't sleep with anyone he's not assigned to." I don't answer. "He tried to help me too, you know. But some of us can't be helped." Her face hardens. "I don't _let_ them do it to me. They have to force me. Every single time."

"Force you?"

"You know that we each appeal to a specific clientele. Mine is bastards who want to live out their secret rape fantasies without having to go to jail afterwards."

I shudder. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Just to remind you that you have a choice. Sort of."

I don't understand how it can be a choice, not really. How can Johanna view having that sort of clientele as anything other than frightening?

"As you might imagine, I don't have many clients."

There it is. A half victory over Snow, I suppose.

"Don't worry. They can't hurt me. There's no one left I love." She turns away before I have a chance to respond. I don't know what I'd say to that anyway.

X

"Ghastly! Absolutely wretched," Effie complains, and I sit back down on the chair with a huff. "And what was that sound? Honestly, Katniss, I don't how I'm supposed to-"

"I'm trying, Effie! But what does it matter if I keep my knees together when I get out of a car?" I widen my knees. "My escorts just want to see up my skirt anyway."

Effie looks away and puts her hand up. I pull my ankles up and sit Indian style on my seat.

"I know there are other _duties_ that you must fulfill-"

"Like fucking?"

She grimaces, but continues to speak. "But it is important that you remain a lady until such time that you are... Well, that you are-"

"Taking it up the ass?"

"Must you be so crass?" Effie brings her hands up to cover her face as she sits down on the bench behind her. She makes a strange sound, something between a whimper and a soft cry, and I furrow my brow. Is she _crying_? "I didn't know what they would ask you to do." She looks up at me, and yes, there are actually tears in her eyes. "You're my first victor."

I exhale, wondering why I'm even considering comforting her.

"You deserve so much better." She covers her face again and cries softly into her hands. I roll my eyes and push myself to stand. I walk over to her and lean forward, resting my hands on my knees.

"It could be worse, Effie," I offer, as I think back to what Johanna told me this morning. She says there's no one left that she loves. But if that were true, she'd probably be dead.

"Yes," Effie says. "It certainly could be." She lifts her head and smiles at me. "Back straight, knees together."

I roll my eyes at her. I'm standing like a _lady_. "When did you get so sneaky?"

"I learned from you. Let's try it again." She lifts my Darwin book from the bench beside her. "With the book."

I roll my eyes as I accept the book from her. I stand and place it on top of my head. But before I can take even one step, Beetee appears in the doorway.

"I need to speak with you," he says. His arms are folded across his chest and a stack of papers are clutched in his hand. His expression is hard, his tone is stern. My heart beats faster. Did I do something wrong?

"Okay." I take the book off of my head and hand it to Effie. I give her an apologetic look. All this etiquette training may be for nothing. If my intelligence doesn't measure up, I'll have no leverage. I'm not sure what I plan to use my leverage for yet, but I know I'll need it. Otherwise, Snow will just sell my body to the highest bidder. I'll have no say over whom. I step out of the room and Beetee removes his glasses. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"A perfect score." Beetee holds up the papers in his hands, and I recognize them as my exam. He lowers his voice before he speaks again. "How did a girl from District 12 manage to get a perfect score on a Capitol high school equivalency exam?"

"I don't know."

He shakes his head. "I can't show this to Snow and his people. Not by itself anyway. They'll think the results are-"

"You think I cheated?"

"I _know_ you didn't. There were only two of us in the room."

"Then I don't understand the problem." I take the exam from him and flip through it, trying to recall my answers.

"I just didn't know what to expect. It certainly wasn't this."

I hold the exam at my side. "So what do I do?"

Beetee huffs out a breath. "I'll have to give you another exam."

"Another exam?"

"A different exam," he clarifies. "We need to be certain of our results. It could be dangerous for us not to be thorough." He turns away. "Tomorrow morning."

X

I call home again. I'm eager to hear Prim's voice. I want to know my sister is still safe. She's the only reason I'm doing this.

The phone rings 4 times, and just when I'm about to hang up and try again later, someone picks up. My heart leaps into my throat as I hear his voice.

"Everdeen residence..."

It's Gale, my childhood best friend, my partner...my _cousin_.

"What are you doing there?"

"Oh, hi, Katniss. Your mother's helping with a birth in the Seam." There's no excitement in his voice. I haven't spoken with him since before the Games. I expected to hear just a little bit of emotion, but there's none. "I brought Posy over to spend some time with Prim."

"Oh." I lower my voice and match his tone. "Thank you."

"Sure. Do you want me to go find her?"

"Yes, please."

I hear movement in the background. "Oh. They're outside... Looks like they're doing cartwheels or something. Does she know how to call you back?"

"Yeah. I think the number is programmed into the phone."

"Good. Goodbye then."

"Wait...how have you been?"

He sighs. "About as good as someone working a job they're forced into can be."

"Tell me about it," I say with a snort.

"Tired of the parties already?" he asks.

I clamp my mouth shut. Gale has been down in the mines for 2 years now. If he's seen me on television lately, I can only imagine what he must think. He's wrong though, and I choose not to enlighten him. He sighs heavily. "I suppose congratulations are in order. I... I told you it would be no different than hunting animals."

I think back to the day of the reaping. Gale had confidence in my hunting skills. He told me I wouldn't die in that arena. He was right, more or less.

"How are you?" I ask again just to fill the silence. "With food?"

"Not as well off as you are." He chuckles bitterly. "But we're fine. The wages from the mines are almost livable."

"I can send you anything you need. Does Posy have a winter coat?"

"If she needs one, I'll get it for her myself."

"Gale…"

"I don't want your money. You didn't earn it."

"Oh, I earned it."

"By killing innocent people."

"You'd rather I let them kill me?"

"I'd rather you have given them a reason to shut the Games off. Make just one Capitolite understand the horror."

"I understand the horror, Gale. Better than you do."

But this just makes him laugh. There's no point in trying to dictate what Gale thinks. If I'm honest, it's one of the reasons I trust him. Used to trust him, anyway.

"It doesn't matter how it goes, does it? You'll find something to bitch about. But when you're in that arena, survival is what's on your mind, and I promise you, you forget that anyone's even watching when someone tries to slit your throat! Even Finnick said that he had to-"

"Finnick? Finnick Odair?"

Finnick is well-known in Panem for his reputation as a playboy. At least, that's how Gale would know him. I sigh heavily. Gale wanted there to be more between us. I told him we could try after my last reaping, but now... I can feel the rift grow between us. "Gale, I didn't have any choice but to-"

"Everyone has a choice, Katniss. You made yours. You let that little girl die."

The call disconnects.

X

I never understood the term tunnel vision until this moment. But the description is apt. I'm in a tunnel.

I bite my bottom lip hard enough to taste blood as I force myself to walk quickly down the hallway. I don't run. I keep my arms at my sides. I do everything in my power to hold myself together. I'm breathing heavily, almost painfully, when I finally get to my room. I scratch at the door with my left hand while my right hand fumbles for the doorknob. I can't stop the sob that escapes my throat. It echoes through the hallway and, embarrassed, I push open the door and drop to my knees inside.

The tears come before the door shuts behind me. I can't hold back my cries anymore. I'm lost. Helpless. Pathetic.

I couldn't save her. I'm sorry.

I feel the cool tile of the floor on my cheek as I surrender to my emotions. I apologize to no one, over and over. There's no air in my lungs, no warmth in my veins. I'm empty.

I push myself up to stand and suddenly, my sadness shifts to anger. My vision is blurred, but I can see the bright yellow flowers even through my tears. I can feel the vase even though my hands are clammy. Most importantly, I can hear it as it shatters against the wall, leaving a thousand pieces on the ground.

But I don't stop there.

Fueled by my anger and strengthened by my complete and utter loss, I seek out more to destroy. I pick up my Darwin book and hurl it at the mirror. I tear down the curtains. I turn over the bed and the dresser. I scream. I feel glass and blood underneath my feet, and I lose my balance. The earth shifts underneath me and the floor is suddenly closer.

The darkness that comes is a blessing.

X

When I wake up, my body is warm. I'm resting on something soft.

"I think she's okay," a voice says. I try to focus on it, but I'm still swimming through the darkness.

"Look, kid, if she needs to go to the doctor-"

"No, she'll be fine. I'll take care of her."

I hear more murmurs as I force my eyes open. Haymitch and Finnick are speaking near the doorway of a room I don't recognize. It looks like mine, but the walls are painted green and blue. There are photos hanging on the wall. I force myself to sit up, and vaguely register the sound of a door clicking shut.

"Hey, wait."

"Where am I?" I demand as I swing my legs over the side of a bed.

"Don't-" he cautions. But he's too late. I try to stand and I'm met with a blinding pain that shoots through the heel of my right foot.

"Shit!"

"Back down, okay?" His hands are on me, encouraging me to sit again. I look down at my foot. It's been bandaged. "You're in my room. You'll be fine. How's your head?"

"I'm okay." I look at Finnick, and the memories become clear. I broke down after speaking with Gale. I allowed the emotions I've been suppressing to boil over.

"Did you?" I gesture to my foot.

"Yeah. When I found you, there was piece of glass stuck in there. It was a straight cut, though, so it should heal fine. Might be difficult for you to go on assignment tomorrow, though."

"I won't have to. Not yet."

"That's good then." He hesitates before speaking again. "Katniss, did you...?" He shakes his head. "Did you do this on purpose?" He gestures down to my foot.

"You mean hurt myself?" He nods his head slowly, keeping his lips pursed together. "No."

He sighs loudly. "Good."

"What if I had?"

"Then I'd have to call Haymitch back here and let him take you to the hospital."

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry you." He only shakes his head. "I was just blowing off some steam."

"Okay."

We're quiet for a minute. I don't know what he's thinking about. But my guess is that it's _her_. She used to hurt herself.

"Finnick?"

"Yes?"

"Will you hold me?"

He looks into my eyes before he answers. "Of course."

He climbs onto the bed and I scoot over to make room for him beside me. He leans back, resting his head on a pillow, and pulls me close. I rest my head on his chest.

"Gloss says he saw you on the phone?"

I nod my head. "Someone back home said something that wasn't very nice to me."

"Oh."

"I overreacted."

I tilt my head up and purse my lips. Finnick kisses me too gently.

"Touch me," I beg. I reach for his hand and move it lower, between my legs.

"Katniss..." He moves his hand up to rest on my stomach. "I don't think we should-"

"Please, Finnick." I kiss him again, swiping my tongue against the seam of his lips and his body tenses. I reach for his hand again. "I need you."

He smiles softly at me. "Whatever you need," he breathes. He reaches down and pushes my underwear aside. I sigh in relief at his touch. "Whatever you need."

X

There's a knock on Finnick's door that rouses us both. We slept nude, wrapped around each other. Finnick doesn't cover his body as he gets up from bed. We've only been like this in the dark and I notice for the first time that there's a tattoo on his left shoulder blade as he makes his way to the door.

He nods as he accepts a bundle of folded cloth from an avox. He smiles at me as he returns to the bed. "Good morning." His stomach muscles contract as I mutter "muh-nig" back while I stare shamelessly at him. The flesh between his legs is hard and I find myself pressing my thighs together. We didn't have sex last night. Finnick used his fingers to take care of me. Then he held me. I'm afraid that he's the only thing holding me together.

He smiles knowingly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I think." I pull my right foot up and peek under the bandage to inspect my wound. I roll my eyes. I really did a number on myself.

He deposits the cloth onto the foot of the bed. "Your clothes," he says.

"What?" I sit up and look through the pile. Three days' worth of my uniform, my underwear, even my sleep clothes and a robe. I look up at Finnick, confused. "Did you send for my things?"

"No, I did not."

"What does this mean?"

He leans down, and kisses me gently. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"I've heard that before." I roll my eyes, but I smile at him.

"You got me there." He smiles back. "My guess is they'll need a couple of days to fix your room."

"Oh."

"You can stay here," he offers. He sits on the bed beside me. "If you want to."

"Do _you_ want me to?"

"It would be easier to keep an eye on you if you did." He smiles, but I can tell from the tone of his voice that he's serious. My eyes drift away from his, down his neck and over his shoulder. I'm curious about his tattoo. I bring my hand up and drag my fingertips over his inked skin. He turns slightly to allow me to see... Black wings with red accents, feathers spread beautifully over his skin.

"Birds," I whisper. Three of them.

"Swallows," he corrects me.

"What do they mean?"

"Loss of innocence. One for every 10,000 miles I spent at sea." He reaches for my hand and I look into his eyes. "They also represent hope."

"Hope," I repeat. He kisses the back of my hand.

"Do you want to shower before breakfast?" he asks.

"With you?" He nods his head. "Yeah, I'd like that." I move toward the edge of the bed and hesitate before putting my foot down.

Finnick sighs. "You can't let anyone see you like this."

I raise an eyebrow. "Injured?"

"Yeah." He's up again, crossing the room over to his dresser and retrieving a small red book. He scribbles something in it quickly before putting it back down and returning to me...with a syringe.

"Wh-what's that?"

He kneels down in front of me. "Muscle relaxer." He reaches for my foot, but I pull away. His head snaps up and he looks at me.

"I don't like needles," I explain.

"_Nobody_ likes needles." He puts the syringe down on the bed beside me. "An injury like that will raise a lot of questions. You need to be strong now." He nods towards the medicine. "It'll make your whole foot numb, but it's better than being in pain all day. Isn't it?"

"I guess."

He reaches for the syringe and I don't stop him. "You'll still have to be careful not to put too much weight on this foot." He holds the cap between his teeth as his fingers slide along the arch of my foot. I shut my eyes and feel a pinch. The pain fades quickly though, replaced by a warm numbness. "Done." I hear him recap the needle.

When I open my eyes, I find he's smiling softly at me. "How about that shower?"

X

"Nice of you two to come up for air," Haymitch says as Finnick and I approach the breakfast table. I'm leaning on him, keeping the weight off of my busted foot.

I roll my eyes at Haymitch and neither of us answers him as we sit at the table. Finnick drapes his arm over my shoulder and pulls me close. I tuck my head into the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent.

"You've been in there fucking for almost 12 hours," Haymitch continues.

I lift my head. "What's it to you?" I spit.

"Katniss," Finnick says, trying to calm me. His hand gently but firmly rubs my shoulder. "He's not the enemy, okay?" Finnick pulls me close again and I rest my head against him. "Ease up, Haymitch," he cautions.

The mocking leaves Haymitch's eyes as he looks between us. "Sorry, Sweetheart. You've been dealing so well I forgot it's only been a little while."

I roll my eyes. I haven't been dealing well at all.

The avoxes set our breakfast - oatmeal, bananas, and tea - down in front of us. But neither of us reaches for the food.

"Ugh," Cashmere grimaces as she stretches her hands over her head. She's in pain, though her injuries aren't visible to me.

I can't help but notice the guilty look on Gloss's face. He opens his mouth to speak to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." Her eyes widen as she cuts him off. "Let's just..." She looks around the table, embarrassed. We all know that she and Gloss were _ordered_ together yesterday. We also all know that it's not her fault. And if Gloss hurt her, she knows that that's not _his_ fault. "Let's just not talk about it, okay?"

Gloss huffs as he turns his attention back to his breakfast. He's got bacon this morning, and the smell is so good, I consider fighting him for a minute. But who am I kidding? I'm too much of a mess right now to move.

The avoxes arrive with the day's assignments. Finnick's muscles harden as he anticipates them. He doesn't receive an envelope, but I do. He stares as it's set down in front of me. I don't reach for it. "It's just testing with Beetee," I assure him.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He kisses the top of my head. "I'll be waiting for you when you get done."

* * *

><p><em>Another health insurance reminder. Open enrollment with ehealth is still going on. If you don't think you can afford it, find out if you are eligible for a subsidy to help cover the costs. Learn more here: www dot dpbolvw dot netclick-7699320-10359792_

_Look out for chapter 5 next Wednesday!_


	5. False Sense of Security

_Happy Holidays! Another round of Prompts in Panem is coming up this weekend, and the next story I plan to update is Happy New Year on the 31st - if you're following me (BitchesLoveSprinkles) or mockingjayflyingfree on tumblr, then you already know the statuses of our projects. So this will be the last update of Generosity before January... Aiming for a January 7th update. But this is a long and smutty chapter to hold you over - oh, and Peeta's back! Can't wait to read what you all think about him!_

_Thanks again to my usual ladies. Bestie Mockingjayflyingfree for betaing, Diana_Flynn for prereading, and Chelzie for a grammar check. You know you all rock!_

* * *

><p><strong>False Sense of Security<strong>

I push away the half empty bowl of oatmeal in front of me with a grimace. Finnick sighs. He must be disappointed that I didn't eat more.

"I'm full," I explain, though he didn't ask.

When I lift my eyes to meet his, all I see reflected in his emerald orbs is worry and my resolve crumbles. To appease him, I take a bite of the damn banana. It seems to calm him.

Johanna is late to breakfast. She's wearing nothing more than a T-shirt when she joins us. As soon as she sits, both avoxes appear. Her breakfast is set in front of her, but she pushes it away. An envelope is handed to her, but she tears it to pieces and tells the avox who delivered it to shove it up his ass.

She gestures to her breakfast. "You think it's in my coffee?" she chuckles bitterly.

"No. It's in your juice," Cecilia explains and uses her fork to point to her own glass, which she hasn't yet touched. "We're the only ones with this particular shade of apple juice today." I guess her meeting went differently than she expected.

Neither Finnick nor I are allowed to consume empty sugar calories from juice - Effie confirmed that we have similar dietary restrictions - but I do notice that the glass of juice in front of Haymitch is several shades lighter than either Johanna or Cecilia's.

"That makes things easier." Johanna swipes the juice as she stands. "It's better on an empty stomach." She chugs the juice as she walks away from the table. She hurls the empty glass at the nearest wall and as it shatters, she shouts, "Don't forget to file my nails down this time, you fuckers!" She's unsteady on her feet, wobbling even. She lowers her voice. "You know I like... to scratch." Her legs give out from underneath her and she collapses to the floor.

I look down at my hands, scratched and dotted with tiny scabs from my outburst, and I notice...they've filed my nails down, too. "Oh, shit," I whisper.

Finnick collects both of my hands in one of his and brings them up to his lips. "Don't worry about that," he whispers back.

"Why do they do that? Why do they drug them? Wouldn't their clients want them to be conscious?" I may be new to this business, but I can't imagine why anyone would want to sleep with an unconscious person. And to have your body used while you're asleep – to have no idea what may have happened once you wake up – seems worse than anything.

"It doesn't last long. They'll only be out a little while." Finnick explains. "It's just to show them their place. As a warning, before they hurt someone they love."

"Has this happened before?" From his lack of reaction when Johanna collapsed on the floor, I know that it must have.

He shrugs. "Sort of. With Johanna, it happens a few times a year. Cecilia usually manages to keep her cool, though."

"And you? Has it ever happened to you?"

"No."

There's a long silence. No one looks at Johanna, drugged and unmoving on the cool marble floor. I hold onto Finnick tightly as the peacekeepers take her away.

Cecilia pushes herself away from the table. "I think I'll sit on the couch first." She picks up her "juice" from off the table and enters the common area. She's quiet for a minute, and we all awkwardly avoid each other's eyes. When more peacekeepers arrive, we know it means she's taken the drugs.

Watching them carry her away breaks my heart. She's a wife and a mother, and still she's here. Still being _sold_. I easily see how this can be a burden, a punishment. But Finnick isn't like that. Even Johanna seemed oddly at peace with her circumstances.

"We should get dressed for the day," I say quietly.

Finnick knows I'm speaking to him. He doesn't hide his affection. There are no disapproving or even pitiful looks. And no one seems surprised when he tilts my head back and kisses my lips. "Finish your breakfast first."

Oatmeal. Half a banana. A cup of tea. "I'm not hungry."

"You should eat."

I nod. He's right, I should. But I'm so tired. "I just want to rest for a few minutes before my next exam."

Finnick sighs. I reach for the tea and finish it with a gulp. I offer him a small smile.

"Okay," he says. "Let's lie down."

X

"Will you tell me about 4?"

My voice is low, but Finnick can hear me. It's so quiet in here, we could hear each other breathe even if our bodies weren't pressed together.

After what happened at breakfast, after seeing them drug Johanna and Cecilia and take them away, it's like I couldn't breathe again until I could feel his skin against mine. He knew I needed to be held. He took off his shirt, then mine, and pulled me to lay on him.

Finnick chuckles and I can feel the vibration through his entire body. He's flat on his back, and I lay prone on top of him with my head on his chest. I've got one hand on his upper arm, fingers curled around his biceps. The other is tucked under his shoulder, scratching gently at his inked skin with nailless fingertips. His right hand is on the small of my back, gently rubbing my exposed skin and the other hand rests on my shoulder. I'm shorter than he is, and even though my head is on his chest, our feet are touching.

"It's beautiful there, Katniss." I slide my good foot up along his shin, and back down again. I tilt my head up and watch a small smile spread across his face. When he thinks about home, he's happy. "I grew up in the Vieux Carré," he begins. "The buildings are a few stories high and even though they're old, they're all bright and colorful. They have these iron balconies and galleries so you can look out on the street and watch parades from your home."

"Parades are sad." I frown. The only parade I've seen is the chariot procession they bring out before the Games to introduce the tributes.

"Happy parades," he assures me. "With colored paper, confetti, and music. We like to celebrate in 4."

I nod my head as I try to imagine what it would be like to watch a parade like that from up high. From a balcony, with Finnick. "What do you celebrate?"

"All kinds of things. We have feasts and festivals. My favorite is the crawfish boil we have late in the year."

"What's that?"

"Well... First, we go out on our boats and fish."

I'm mystified as he explains this to me. The idea of being on a boat out on the open sea is foreign to someone from 12. I know fishing is a big part of the economy in 4 but even still, I can't understand why the Capitol actually allows people to go out to sea for recreation... why would anyone ever come back?

"Then we all gather around in the town center and we boil the little critters. We make all of our favorite foods and we share them."

"You share them?"

"Of course."

That's also a foreign concept. Not the sharing itself, but the idea of there being enough food _to_ share.

"They let you keep all that food?" I ask, shaking my head.

His smile fades away. "I know it's different in 12."

"Yeah."

"You have to remember that 4 is a career district. We didn't volunteer for the same reasons."

"Why _did_ you volunteer?" He was so young. The youngest ever to win, in fact.

"A lot of reasons I know now to be wrong."

His answer was vague, but I don't press. I nod my head anyway as I lower myself back down to his chest. I listen to his heartbeat.

"Do you still live there?" I ask. "In the Vieux Carré."

"No. The Victors Village is closer to the water. It's different, but I like it. I can see my schooner from my kitchen window."

"What's a schooner?"

"It's my boat."

"Oh."

"Also, a few years ago we painted the houses to match the old neighborhood and ever since then it's felt more comfortable."

"Like you did in here?" I pick up my head again and look around. He's taken this boring room and turned it into a sanctuary.

"Exactly." He points to one of the portraits on the walls. "Those are my parents." There's a man with brown eyes dressed in blue with a bright red oversized tie: a sailor. He's sitting on a dock, with his feet dangling over the water, next to a beautiful green-eyed woman who is wearing a white apron. "That was back when my mother was still a nurse," Finnick explains.

"My mother is a healer, too. But I don't like blood." I didn't used to anyway. I didn't mind it during the Games, especially when it was oozing out of a wound I inflicted.

"I don't, either," he laughs lightly. "She doesn't work at the hospital anymore. They're retired, out to sea most of the year now."

"And safe?"

"Yes, they're safe. Safer than they would be if they lived in 4 full time. When they're out there, it would be difficult to find them. I wish they would take Mags with them," he says as he points to another photo. "But she insists she can protect herself."

I feel myself tense. "Can we talk about this in here?"

"Yes, we can."

"The room isn't bugged?" Haymitch said all the rooms are bugged.

"They think it is." Finnick chuckles. "Beetee put the bugs in here on a loop a long time ago." That doesn't surprise me at all. Beetee is brilliant. "We'll do the same for you room, once they're done fixing it, okay? But you can't give them any reason to go back in there once we do."

"Okay."

"No more smashing stuff in there. If you're going to lose it, go down to the gym and hit something."

Finnick's looking at me sternly, but can't suppress a smile. "I promise."

"Good. What else did you want to know?" he asks. I catch the hesitation in his voice. I know not to ask too much, not right now.

"I want to know about Mags. Did she work for Snow, too?"

"Yes," Finnick confirms. "She did. Long ago."

"Did Annie?" I hedge.

Finnick takes a deep breath before answering. "No. I took on her clients... to protect her."

"_Her_ clients? Were they...?" Men. Were they men?

"Most of them."

Of course they were. That shouldn't surprise me. I try to hide the fact that it does. It shouldn't matter, I try to remind myself. It _doesn't_ matter.

I look away, to the sky blue and sea green walls with white clouds. "I like it in here," I tell him. "It's comfortable. It smells like you."

"You like how I smell?"

I nod my head and press my nose against his chest and inhale deeply. If I had to describe it, I'd say he smells like a breeze. Fresh and warm.

"You may like it in 4. I'll take you one day soon, if you want."

I lift my head back up. "Really?"

"Of course. You can see where I grew up. I can show you the museums and the-"

"Do you have a university?"

He smiles and nods again. "We do. Most of us go there after we get out of the training academy. But I never did...You really like school, huh?"

I shrug my shoulders. "We only have trade schools in 12. School isn't something I ever thought would be available to me, anyway. You know, learning for the sake of learning."

"What do you want to learn?"

"I don't know yet. Everything?" He chuckles again and I find myself rubbing my face against his chest. "Why didn't you go?"

"To university? I don't know. I was only in the academy for two years and I couldn't wait to get out. I volunteered, even though I wasn't supposed to." Finnick shakes his head at himself. "After I won, school just seemed like taking a step back in a lot of ways."

"Perhaps if you had less combat training in your curriculum, you'd like it more," I suggest.

"Perhaps." He sighs lightly as his eyes flutter shut. I listen to him breathe, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath me.

"Will you take me out on your boat, too?"

"Absolutely. You can be my first mate."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we take care of each other in rough seas."

"That sounds good."

"It's a date, then."

A date. A plan for something in the future. Something besides this. I pick my head up and my lips find his. He smiles against me before taking control. The hand on my shoulder moves to cup my jaw while the hand on my back holds me tightly. It's slow, lazy, wet, and perfect.

I feel him harden beneath me and I pull away. I look down between us, to where his growing erection is pressed against my stomach.

"I can't right now."

"What?"

"I have to go see Beetee in a few minutes," I explain.

"I know."

"I'm sorry." I look into his eyes, hoping he can forgive me.

But he searches my face, seemingly confused by my words. "Katniss, it's just a physical reaction to kissing you. It doesn't mean we _have_ to do anything." I nod slowly as I process his words. His thumb gently caresses my cheek. "It doesn't _ever_ mean we have to do anything. You always have a choice with me."

I feel my lips curl up in a smile. A choice. Something I won't always have. "Thank you." I lean forward and kiss him again. "Maybe when I get back?"

"Only if you want to."

I nod my head before rolling off of him and I reach for my blouse, a pastel pink with a floral design on the hem. My skirt is boring black today and it's draped over the chair by the door. "I don't know how long I'll be."

"It's fine. I should be here when you get done."

I push myself up to stand, taking care not to put too much weight on my bad foot. "What are you going to do today?"

"I've got some errands to run."

I pause at that. I turn to face him. "They let you out of here?"

"Yeah...don't worry. They'll ease up on your restrictions too, as soon you show them you won't disappear."

"How do I do that?"

"You get another perfect score on Beetee's exam." I roll my eyes. "You negotiate your terms. Snow likes you. Now is the time to take advantage of that, not to mention the fact that you're new. Snow himself acknowledges what you have to offer, right?" I nod my head. "Trust me here. You should be upfront if there's something you want."

I know what I want. I want to go to school. I want the Capitol to make good on its promise and reward me for winning the Games, or at least give me the opportunity to reward myself somehow. But that's not what everyone wants, is it? "What is it you want?" I ask.

"Me?" He wiggles his eyebrows and I roll my eyes at the cockiness he can display on cue. "It's a secret."

X

I sit in the calm deserted room on the third floor, watching Beetee as he goes over my exam. I don't know what he expects to find that's different this time. That test seemed identical, with questions as nonsensical as last time. The only difference was the essay.

_What matters to you and why?_

It seemed like a simple question. I began with a list. Food. Shelter. Clothing. But then I remembered that I already have those things and more now. And that the people in the Capitol have _always_ had those things and more.

So I wrote about Prim. But I didn't use her name. I wrote about the well-being of all children in Panem. Our system is fragile. I bet the simplest thing can send it crashing down. I bite my bottom lip as I consider what I've written. I may have said too much.

"Interesting," Beetee comments. He sets the papers down on the desk in front of him. "I wonder what Snow will think about this." He narrows his eye at me. "You're sure you want him to see this?"

I take a deep breath. "I'm sure."

"Good." He pushes himself up to stand. "Get something to eat first. You look like you're about to pass out."

X

I rest on one of the couches with my bad foot up, staring at the phone. The avoxes set my lunch - brown rice, steamed vegetables and boiled chicken breast - on the dining room table ten minutes ago, but I haven't moved yet.

I pick up the receiver, convinced that I'll do it this time. I'll call home. I'll hear my sister's voice again and be reminded of what I'm doing here. But then I freeze. What if I call and _he_ answers again? Or worse, what if he's been telling Prim terrible things about me? I can't go through that right now. I'm still healing from the last conversation we had...and I'm not talking about my foot.

I can already feel the bile rising in my throat. The urge to shatter something is back. But I promised Finnick I wouldn't. Damn it. I set the phone back down. The moment I hang up the receiver, it begins to ring. Startled, I pick it back up and press it to my ear.

"Prim?"

"No, ma'am. This is Officer Huckabee down at the front desk. I'm looking for Miss Katniss Everdeen."

"Oh. This is she."

"Ma'am, you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" I furrow my brow. "Who is it?"

"P. Mellark."

"P. Mel-" Can it be? Is it..."Peeta?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I-I-I'll be right down."

I can feel my heart beating wildly as I hang up the phone. I stand carefully, pushing myself up and smoothing out my skirt as I make my way to the elevators. The thumping sound in my ears with each heartbeat gets louder as I descend. I feel like I'm having a panic attack. But I force myself to breathe. I can't freak out right now.

The doors open and my eyes land on Peeta. He's standing on the near side of the peacekeeper guards and I wonder why they let him in. He smiles when he sees me, taking two large confident steps towards me.

"Hi," he says, his eyes lighting up as I step closer. "You look beautiful."

"You look nice, too." If I'm being honest, he's even more attractive than I remember. His blond hair glistening, his blue eyes shining, and his muscles are bulging out of his shirt. Sure, it's a pink shirt. But I remind myself he's from the Captiol, so he's rather conservatively dressed.

"How'd you get in here?" I ask.

"I came here to visit my uncle."

"Your uncle?"

"Yeah, he works upstairs."

I furrow my brow. "Upstairs?"

"Top floor."

"Oh." There are several dozen peacekeepers on duty up there, since President Snow is in the building. His uncle could be any one of them.

A tour group enters the building. I can hear the gasps as the Capitolite tourists point in my direction. I look around nervously. Peeta notices and his eyes are darting around, too.

"Come on," he says. He hooks his arm in mine and leads me around the nearest corner. I can feel my limp become more pronounced with the quickened pace. He pulls open a large door and gestures for me to step inside. When the door shuts behind us, he sighs in relief. "That was close, huh?"

"Yeah..." I trail off as I look around the room. High ceilings, 12 large marble pillars in a circle.

"Where's your security detail?" he asks.

"Not sure." I look closer and see numbers engraved on the pillars. It's not until I see Finnick's name etched that I recognize that it's a list of victors.

"Someone in your position should have better security."

I shrug my shoulders. "Maybe, but always having a peacekeeper escort gets annoying."

He nods his head. "I can understand that. Better to just lay low."

"Exactly. What is this place?"

"The Hall of Victors? You haven't been in here before?" I shake my head. "Well, you only won a few weeks ago. You haven't even been on your victory tour yet."

"No." I look up at him and realize he's still holding me. I clear my throat and look down. I twist away and he releases me. "Won't someone find us in here?"

Peeta shrugs. "It's relatively deserted in here, except during certain ceremonies. The tours don't stop in here."

"Oh...Why are you here?" I ask again.

He smiles and I bite my bottom lip at the bluntness of my words. "I thought I'd return this to you," he extends his hand. He's holding my token, the golden mockingjay pin I got from Madge.

I gasp "My pin! Where'd you get this?" I ask in vain.

"You left it...that night..." His voice trails off.

"Oh. I've been looking everywhere for it. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He leans in and I allow it. He fastens my pin to my shirt, and the backs of his hands press against my chest. "So, you're still here?"

"Still here," I confirm.

His hands move. I watch as he drags his fingertips from my elbows to my wrists before he holds my hands in his. "Does that mean I can take you out sometime?"

I look up at him. "Peeta-"

"Someplace quiet and low key, I promise. So we can talk."

"Peeta," I say, louder this time.

"What?"

"That's not- I mean, you don't have to do that, just because you- I mean, just because we-"

"Had sex?"

He's blushing, but I'm the first to look away. "Yeah. That."

"That was my first time too, you know."

I lift my eyes to meet his. "It was?" He nods his head and smiles softly at me. "I didn't know-" I cut myself off. Though I suppose I should have. His movements were just as jerky as mine were. I guess I just didn't think that anyone from the Capitol, especially not someone as attractive as Peeta, could be in college and still be a virgin.

I feel ashamed. I took advantage of him. But... he's looking at me like what we had was special. And maybe it was. But it was also fleeting.

"So, can I?"

"What?"

"Can I take you out?"

"Oh...um..." I look into his big, blue, hopeful eyes. "I'm not sure how long I'll be in the Capitol."

"Oh." He releases me. The disappointment in his voice is heartbreaking.

"A lot of us are headed back to our districts soon," I continue.

"Got it," he nods as he begins to step backwards.

"But if you have a phone-"

"Of course I have a phone." He smiles in relief and he holds up his wrist. He's wearing a silver band that looks like a watch. Finnick has one that's similar, but it's gold. I never asked him about it, and it only just clicked in my head that it's a phone. "What's your number?" Peeta asks.

He programs my information - my numbers at the training center and back in 12 - into his phone. I watch him. His eyelashes...they're impossibly long. "There," he finishes. "So I'll talk to you soon?"

"Sure," I reply.

"Great." Peeta says, leaning in. His hand is on my jaw and his lips part ever so slightly as he gets closer. He presses his lips against mine gently and I'm reminded of that night. How I begged him to fuck me only minutes after meeting him. I pull away, ashamed of myself all over again, and I keep my eyes on the floor. "Should I not have done that?" he asks.

"It was nice," I say honestly, because it was. I grab his hand and pull it away from my face. I take a step back and I lift my eyes to meet his. "I just - I have to go."

"Katniss, wait."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I turn away, completely forgetting to keep my weight off my injured foot, compromising my balance as I head for the door.

As soon as I step outside, I crash into a solid body with an oomph. The wind is knocked out of me and I find myself flat on my ass. "Slow down there, Sweetheart." I hear Haymitch's voice, but there are two sets of hands on my shoulders, helping me up.

"Sorry, ma'am." I look around as two peacekeepers lift me off of the floor. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

One of the peacekeepers opens the door I just exited, and peers into the Hall of Victors. But when I glance inside, Peeta is nowhere to be found. "All clear," he says. He brings his wrist up to his mouth and speaks louder. "Requesting 10-20 on Eagle 6."

Haymitch puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me closer so that my back is against his chest. There's a crinkle of static before the peacekeeper's communication device produces another voice.

"Eyes on Eagle 6, exiting the north side of the training center."

"Roger that. 10-22, I repeat disregard last assignment." He turns to us. "As you were."

Haymitch salutes with two fingers and I nod as the peacekeepers exit to hallway, leaving us alone.

"What the hell do you want?" I ask as I step away.

"Is that why you want to go to college so bad?" Haymitch asks. "To get some young Capitol dick?"

I freeze. "What?"

"I saw you in there... with the President's nephew."

"I wasn't - wait, _what_?"

"That was Peeta Mellark, wasn't it?" I don't answer. "Well, sweetheart, it's either a really smart move on your part. Or a really dumb one. Though I have to wonder what Odair would think about this."

"It's none of his business." Although I probably should tell him. Shouldn't I? "Besides, he's not my keeper. And neither are you."

"Whatever." Haymitch rolls his eyes and gestures down the hallway. "Get upstairs. Snow wants to see you."

X

I struggle to hide my injured foot as I shift uncomfortably in Snow's doorway. He's holding a short stack of papers, reading with a small smile on his lips. I assume it's my exam, but I can't tell whether he's amused.

The shot Finnick gave me this morning is wearing off. When Snow wordlessly motions for me to sit, I have to fight against the resurfacing pain shooting through my heel and up through my leg in order to obey.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?"

"_The Capitol is the beating heart of Panem_." I recognize my words immediately. He's reading my essay aloud. Something told me he'd eat that shit up. "_And the heart is truly a vulnerable part of any living system._" He sets the papers down on the table in front of him. "You are correct. It is a fragile system. And we must each do our part."

I nod my head.

"You _are_ insightful, Miss. Everdeen. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Once. A few nights ago. It was the Senator's wife at Capitol University. I don't answer. That question was obviously rhetorical, since somehow Snow knew that already. I do force a smile though.

"Your presence will be required on the arm of Seneca Crane."

"Oh."

I furrow my brow, wondering why I'm here, receiving this news from the President himself. Surely, my next assignment could be delivered on a card by an avox.

"He requests that you escort him to Capitol University's annual invitational golf classic." He slides a fresh white envelope across the desk. "The remainder of his requests are detailed here."

"Thank you," I say as I accept the card.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

The details don't matter. I'll have to do what's listed, there's no getting around that. I won't let Snow see my initial reaction. "I'm certain it's all in order."

"I must say, I'm impressed. Your qualifications are outstanding and your cooperation is greatly appreciated."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you fully satisfied?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not an unreasonable man, Miss Everdeen. I want my most desired courtesan to be happy."

"I am happy. But," I purse my lips. _Most_ desired? Finnick might be right. I'm in Snow's office. Now might be the time to negotiate my terms. "I have concerns."

"Go on."

"Well, being in the company of such intellectuals. I do worry that they will quickly tire of my current qualifications. Perhaps there is some way to...what I mean is..."

"State your request," Snow interrupts me. "We can save time by agreeing not to lie to each other."

"You're right. That would save time." I take a deep breath and find my voice. "I think it might preserve the longevity of my appeal if I took a course or two. The Institute of Technology in 12-"

"If this next assignment goes well, your schedule will require your frequent presence in the Capitol."

"Oh," I say. I didn't know that. But I don't argue.

"You do raise an interesting point. I'll have to consider a way to keep you interesting. You've yet to showcase a talent beyond archery. Perhaps there's something to be done there."

"Perhaps," I agree.

"That will be all, Miss Everdeen."

I push myself to stand, ready to leave things as they are. But then I remember Finnick's words. He said I should ask for what I want. "I want to go to school," I say, before I can stop the words. Snow raises an eyebrow at me. "I'd like to attend University. Would that be possible?"

"To what end?"

I lower my voice before I speak again. "I just want to learn."

Snow is stoic for a moment, but then his face softens. He opens his mouth to let out a hearty chuckle and a fresh wave of blood scented air surrounds me. Is the smell coming from _him_?

"So you shall, my darling." He studies my face, a strange look of awe etched across his wrinkled features. "So you shall."

X

I wander through the training center, trying to find myself, searching through corridors that I know won't give me any answers. I encounter two tour groups of Capitolites, who swear meeting me is the highlight of their year, before I predict their route and hide. I hate the congratulations.

It's not long before I find myself back at Finnick's door. Back in his room, with his hands wandering over my body.

"You feel so good," Finnick murmurs against my lips and then he kisses me again.

I wanted to tell him about my visitor today. I tried to. But as soon as I stepped into his room, he saw my discomfort. He sat me on this desk, and gave me another numbing shot in my foot. I leaned forward, as the warm relief spread, and kissed him gratefully. He responded immediately, with kisses so hurried and passionate that I decided I wanted this now. I want _him_.

I'm sitting on his desk and he's standing between my legs, claiming me with his mouth and his hands. He presses his fingertips hard against my thighs and slides them towards my ass, slipping under my skirt and pushing it out of his way.

He's making short work of my clothing. My blouse is already unbuttoned, my breasts untucked from my bra. My nipples are cool and hard after he sucked on them gently, sending a rush of wetness out of me. I smile as he hooks his fingers on the waist of my panties. I bring my hands up and clasp them around his neck and lift my ass, allowing him to remove my panties.

No sooner than he drops them do I reach for his hand and guide it back between my legs. His fingers glide along my slit and he groans in approval at the slickness he finds.

Fuck it! I'll tell him about Peeta later.

"I like the way you touch me."

"I know." He kisses me. "You're already so wet."

"I get wet just looking at you." I reach for his already unbuttoned jeans with my good foot and push them down along with his underwear.

"You want me inside of you," he states.

"Yesss," I whine.

Without another word he pulls me close, scooting my ass to the edge of the desk, and he enters me.

I cry out at the sensation of being filled. Finnick moves, fucking me hard and moaning my name. He tells me how good it feels, that's no one gets this wet for him. I clench around him in response.

He kisses me. My mouth is slack, my body too lost in sensation to kiss him back, so he draws my bottom lip in between his and sucks me hard. He doesn't last long. I don't think he wants to. It feels impossibly good as he stills, pressing deep inside of me, pulsing, pulsing, filling me up.

His chest glistens with a sheen of sweat as he pulls out of me. I reach down and rub my fingers over my now swollen pussy, feeling his cum between my folds. I feel dirty. I love it.

He pushes my hand out of the way as he kneels down. Before I fully understand what he's doing, I feel the flat of his tongue against me, dragging against my wet folds. He's dipping into me, licking his cum out of my pussy with long, slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation is amazing. I can't take my eyes off of him. I bring my hands to the back of his head, holding him close while I watch him work.

When he's finished, he looks up at me and smiles.

"That was sexy," I breathe.

"I've been wanting to fill you up and lick you out like that for days."

"Damn." My body contracts again with his words.

He chuckles quietly as he stands and finally kicks off the jeans that are collected around his ankles.

"I have something for you," he says as he reaches behind me. He retrieves a bag from the desk; it's white and plain, but made of sturdy paper. He tips it, allowing me to look inside. "It's been a while since I've had any use for money," he comments.

"You bought something?" I tuck my breasts back into my bra and push myself farther back on the desk. I don't reach for my underwear, though. I don't do anything about the skirt bunched up around my waist, either.

"I did." Finnick stands between my knees again.

"For me?" I peek into the bag, but all I can see is a black box inside. "What is it?"

"Open it."

As I reach into the bag, I try to remember the last time someone bought me a gift. Something before Haymitch sent me parachutes in the arena. I come up short.

I eagerly open the box, but feel my face twist in confusion as I look inside. It's a watch with a golden band, just like his.

"What's this?" I ask.

"The newest technology in Capitol communications. You've seen how the peacekeepers talk to each other using those things on their wrists, right?" I nod my head as he pulls one of the watches out, the thinner one, and reaches for my hand. "That's the idea here." He slides the watch onto my wrist.

"No, no. I know it's a phone. It's just - why are you giving this to me?"

"So that we can keep in touch. We can use these to talk, so you don't have to stand in your kitchen and use the landline to speak with me when you get back to 12." I can feel my smile fade. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure if I'm going back to the districts. Not anytime soon, anyway."

"Well, this will work in all of Panem... Why aren't you going back to 12?" He brings he hands up to cup my jaw and he looks into my eyes.

"Snow." I bring my hands to his hips and pull him closer. I'm suddenly freezing. "He said I'll have to be here in the Capitol a lot."

"Oh." Finnick doesn't hide his disappointment well. "You'll be working more often than the rest of us?"

"I'm not sure, but if I have to be here, then he'll probably reject my request to attend university. It's not like they'll let someone from 12 into Capitol U." He nods his head, processing the information I have to offer. "I guess it depends on how this next assignment goes."

"Next assignment?"

"The head Gamemaker wants me to escort him to a golf game." I shake my head. "It's stupid."

"Are you ready?"

Something about the way he's looking at me. I already know he knows that this will be my first real assignment. I nod my head. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Finnick's expression hardens. I try to hide a smile as his demeanor shifts from lover to mentor. It doesn't help that he's standing nude between my knees. "Absolutely _no_ direct genital contact. Make sure he uses a condom."

"I know."

"Don't make sounds you're not in control of."

"I won't."

"And remember the safety words."

"I will." I smile and poke him teasingly in the chest. "Anything else?"

"Yeah..." His hands are on my hips again, rubbing my exposed skin gently. "It's not a bad thing if you enjoy it. Physically, I mean. You should try to. It's better if you can." He looks away. This is clearly uncomfortable for him, to tell me to _enjoy_ being fucked by someone else. "He may do things to you that you like. Things that your body responds to in ways you might not expect. Just keep in mind that if he makes you cum-"

"It doesn't have to mean anything?"

"No," he agrees. "It doesn't. It can just be physical."

"Is it just physical with us?"

He frowns deeply and his eyes dart back up to me. "Of course not."

"How do you know the difference? How do you keep it separate?"

"It can get confusing," he explains. "But it helps to have boundaries. There are things I do with someone I choose to be with that I wouldn't do with a client." He lick his lips. "For example, everything we just did."

"No protection?"

"Right."

"Lights on?"

"Yep."

"Eye contact?"

"Right again."

I smile wickedly. "Licking your cum out of me?"

His smile fades and he leans forward, capturing my lips again. His hands are covering my breasts, squeezing hard, before moving back down to my hips and tugging me back to the edge of the desk.

"Oh fuck," I moan as he taps the head of his cock, already hard again, against my clit, causing me to widen my legs. My hands are on his lower back again and I pull him closer, urging him back inside of me.

"Damn, fucking you feels so good."

My hands are on the back of his neck again, holding tightly and his gaze never falters. "Mmmm, Finnick," I moan as he thrusts into me again.

"Tell me how it feels," he demands.

"You're deep. It feels so good-ohhh..." I get lost in another moan as he hits a sensitive spot inside of me. I don't know how to explain the friction. The delicious feeling of his hard cock, covered in us, sliding roughly through my already swollen lips, penetrating me deeply. It's a struggle to keep my eyes open. I want to shut them tight, drop my head back, and give in to sensation. I want Finnick to have his way with me, to have complete control of me.

It wasn't like this with Peeta. It didn't even feel like this with Finnick before. But now that he's held me and cared for me, the way he's moving in me feels different.

"I'm gonna fill you up again," he promises. I nod my head, unable to find any words to respond. "Then I'm gonna lick you."

"Shiiit." My eyes close, but his hands tighten on my hips and I force them open again.

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

"So good." I moan again as his movements quicken.

"Listen to you. You sound so fucking sexy."

I wasn't in control of that sound, and he knows it. He bites his bottom lip and groans loudly. I feel the warmth of his cum and the throbbing of his cock inside of me. I watch him fall apart. Fuck, he's gorgeous.

He pulls out of me, still breathing heavily and drops back down to his knees. "It's all I can think about when I'm inside of you," he says as he leans in. I smile as he brings his lips to my clit and sucks hard on my nub.

"Oooh, I like that," I tell him.

"Good."

Two fingers slide into my warmth and he spreads his cum over my folds. The tip of his tongue flicks against my clit and I try to hold still. I'm close, so close. "Yes!" I damn near scream as my body tenses in pleasure. I'm hot and I'm high and Finnick's still sucking hard on my clit. He doesn't stop when my shouts fade to whimpers. He keeps going until I'm a useless pile on my back on the desk, begging him to stop.

When it's over, he pushes himself up. He climbs onto the desk and hovers over me. My eyes are shut and I can feel a lazy smile spread across my face. I reach up and gently comb my fingers through his hair.

"I like doing that. I like it so much that sometimes I get caught up in the moment and get tempted to do that with a client," he admits. "But I don't."

I open my eyes. "Why not?"

"Well, to be honest, the urge fades pretty quickly once I cum. But the truth is that it wouldn't be the same. I remember that I only want to do it with someone special."

"Oh, Finnick-"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say-" he cuts himself off and his eyes dart over to his left, only for a second. I follow his gaze, over to Annie's photo. When I look back at him, he's smiling nervously.

"I'm fond of you too," I tell him.

"Fond?" He gives me a look.

I roll my eyes but I smile. "Maybe a little more than fond."

He lowers his body, pressing his torso against mine and our lips join together. I feel him harden against my thigh.

I pull away. "Holy crap, again?"

"Like I said. Special." He kisses me once more but then he moves away. He climbs off the desk and makes his way towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a cold shower," he calls out over his shoulder.

I hop off of the desk, grateful that my foot is numb. I set my new watch on the dresser, next to his, and I follow him. "I'll join you."

* * *

><p><em>Do please let me know what you think of Peeta!<em>

_My ladies are already tearing apart chapter 6, so remember to check back on Jan 7! Another reminder to check the tags before you read on. This story is about forced prostitution. Let's not forget that._

_And please remember to pass this ehealth link along to your friends and family who need health insurance. Babybug has strep throat, and pretty much everyone in his class does too (yucky!), and I can tell you it's a rotten time to year not to have access to proper medical care. Everyone deserves coverage. So, pass it along: www. dpbolvw click-7699320-10359792_

_See you soon!_


	6. Turning Point

_Hello and Happy New Year!_

_If you didn't notice the __**non-con**__ tag before, I invite you to do so now. I posted these tags in Chapter 1, so you all should have seen them over 20k words ago. But in case you missed it, here they are again:_

_Keywords: **Katnick**, Everlark, love triangle, **forced prostitution**, **explicit sexual content**, explicit language, anal sex, toys, **non-con elements, dubious consent**._

_This story is about __**forced **__**prostitution**__. This chapter will explore that. _

_It could be difficult to read (it was difficult to write), and I'm tempted to apologize in advance... but Mockingjayflyingfree (beta'd), Diana_Flynn (preread), and Chelzie (grammar check) all agree that this is an important step in development for the woman Katniss will become, and an important milestone for Katniss and Finnick's bonding._

_I look forward to reading your thoughts. I'll be biting my nails until then._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Turning Point<strong>

**Seneca POV**

_"Sir, she's almost at the edge." The junior Gamemaker uses his thumb and forefinger to zoom in on the location of the girl from 12. "She's nearly 2 kilometers from the nearest tribute."_

_I roll my eyes. These kids from 12 do the same thing every year. They don't seek out confrontation; they always run and try to find a way out of the arena. They don't ever seem to realize that there isn't one. This particular tribute is perched up high, tied to a tree and resting. She doesn't want to fight. She has no desire to. But I'm willing to bet she wants to live._

_"Let's turn her around then."_

_Her body twitches with realization even before she wakes. She's smelled the smoke._

_Farewell, girl on fire._

**Katniss POV**

When I open my eyes, I'm paralyzed with fear. Finnick is warm beside me, still sleeping with his limbs wrapped around me, one hand gently cupping my left breast. His presence doesn't chase away that nightmares. I still have to do that on my own. But he does make it easier when I wake up.

I try to breathe in time with his long inhales. His sleep isn't peaceful, either. It's too deep. His body barely moves, but I can see his eyes darting back and forth beneath the closed lids. He's trapped, and trying to wake him doesn't help. He has to drag himself out of his nightmares. I can tell from how weary he is at the end of each day that he's exhausted, but he doesn't _go_ to sleep. He waits for his body to shut itself down.

I only know a part of what he's been through in the years since he became a victor. He's not ready to tell me more yet. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to know more yet anyway.

I pick up my arm and display my vital signs on the screen of my watch. It's been two days since Finnick gave it to me, and I'm still getting used to all of its features. I'm not surprised that my heart is still beating quickly and that my blood pressure is written in red. Waking didn't save me from my nightmare this time. Instead, waking up brought me closer to it. Today, I have an appointment with Seneca Crane.

Finnick stirs beside me, and I will my breathing to even out. "Morning, beautiful," he greets me. His voice is sleepy, his hair is ruffled. I roll my eyes. He's a charmer, but it's too damn early for him to be feeding me lines already.

I roll out of his arms and sit up. "Morning," I say quietly.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says, sounding concerned. He sits up and his hand finds my lower back. He rubs slowly in small circles. "Calm down."

I didn't realize until now that I'm still breathing heavily and I'm trembling. "I'm fine," I tell him. "It was just a dream."

He pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me. "That's right. You're okay." I nod my head too quickly, but I don't answer. I'm not sure how long it takes, but I'm grateful that Finnick holds me until my breathing evens out. "That's better," he says.

I tilt my head up and he kisses me gently. I feel guilt flood my body and the words tumble out before I can stop them. "I kissed someone else."

"What?"

"I kissed someone. Yesterday. Well, actually _he_ kissed me, and I don't know. It just seemed like I should tell you."

"Katniss, it's fine. Sometimes prospective clients expect-"

"He doesn't want to be a client."

"Oh."

He doesn't ask me who it was, but I tell him anyway. "He's a Capitolite. A fan, I guess. It didn't mean anything, though." At least I don't think it did.

"Then why are you telling me?" he asks.

"I don't know. I don't really understand..." I furrow my brow at myself. "I guess-" I gasp as a knock on the door startles me.

"Katniss, it's Cinna!"

I look into Finnick's eyes, still confused, but more than anything else, _sorry_. "She'll be right out!" Finnick calls back. He lowers his voice before he speaks again. "You have a client today and so do I." The backs of his fingers brush gently over my cheek. "Nothing that happens with them can change what goes on between us, unless we let it. Do you understand me?"

I nod my head. But honestly, I'm skeptical. How can we be certain it won't affect us? Whatever we are, it's new and fragile.

"Good." Finnick leans in and kisses me again. "Now let's go to work. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back here and I can hold you again." I smile at that. I love the way he touches me. "I promise."

X

I don't think Snow is in the building anymore. There are barely any peacekeepers patrolling the halls. There's even laughter around the victors' table.

After speaking with Cinna, I sit next to Finnick. I'm gratefully chewing a bite of Haymitch's bacon while Angelo regales us with the story of yesterday's assignment: a woman who has had several surgical procedures to make herself look like a cat. She also wanted to use a sex swing.

Angelo rubs absently at the scratches she's left on his arm. "Next thing I know, she's squealing and begging me to help her out of it!" Haymitch shakes his head and Finnick only smiles as Angelo continues. "What made her think it would be a good idea with her body modifications is beyond me." He laughs heartily, brushing his dark hair away from his brown eyes, and I find myself smiling at him.

Blight perks up as Johanna appears, but the rest of us quiet down. She's barely been out of her room since her last assignment, and her presence changes the mood. She's wearing big sunglasses and long sleeves, even though it's the middle of summer. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when she sits and removes her glasses, revealing a black eye, it's hard not to notice.

"Christ, aren't we a pathetic bunch?" Haymitch comments. He takes out a flask and offers it to Johanna at the same time that Angelo offers her a capped syringe. It's no surprise that she considers both options, though Haymitch seems particularly smug when she chooses his vice. "Don't worry, kid," Haymitch says as he watches her drink. "You'll be back in Seven soon."

"Not soon enough," Cecilia mutters. She doesn't have any visible bruises, but she still looks like she's been through hell.

Cashmere chuckles in agreement, but the movement causes her to wince.

"E called me," Johanna begins. "She'll be here in a few days. She's planning to see a client." Johanna shakes her head. In disgust? No. Pity? No. She rolls her eyes, and I detect disbelief. Perhaps even jealousy.

"Awful," Cecilia mutters. "She just had a death in the family." I don't miss how Cecilia's eyes cut over to me.

"Yeah well, that's her choice," Cashmere explains.

Johanna grumbles. "Lucky bitch."

"You know that luck had very little to do with it," Haymitch explains. "She made her choices and you made yours." Johanna glares at him as she passes the flask back to him. He brings the spout to his lips and mumbles. "As soon as _sweetheart_ makes her choice, I can get the hell out of here."

Haymitch has a point. He is the only one of us here not _working_. I don't know what choice I'm expected to make but I roll my eyes at him, because he still sounds like a jerk.

"Who's E?" I whisper quietly to Finnick.

"Enobaria," he whispers back. Oh yes, I remember her. The girl with the sharp teeth. She hasn't been here, so I assumed she wasn't forced to work like the rest of us are. I guess I was wrong. "Her little sister was a tribute."

"What?" I say, louder than I intended to.

District 2. Clove.

I killed her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask him. How can these people all share a meal with me, knowing what I've done? Knowing who I've done it to? I ended the lives of five people in the arena. How many of them were loved by someone at this table?

"Because, Katniss, it doesn't matter."

I furrow my brow. Maybe it doesn't matter. But it should.

I look at the injured people all gathered around the table, and find small relief that there are no envelopes for them today.

X

It's been days since I've seen my prep team, but they're standing in the hallway outside of my door waiting for me after breakfast. Finnick leans down and we slowly kiss goodbye. My fingers are tangled in his hair and they practically have to pry me off of him to go get ready. I'm pulled into my room by Octavius and presented to Cinna only moments later.

He goes for my nails first. "So..." Cinna says as he raises an eyebrow at me. I grimace as the nail file drags along the fingertip of my pinkie. Fuck, they're really short. "You and Finnick?"

I nod my head once. "Me and Finnick."

Cinna looks contemplative as he finishes bringing me back to beauty base zero. "I like it," he declares.

I pull my hand away and examine his work. "Well, I won't be scratching anyone today." I chuckle bitterly.

But Cinna doesn't laugh. His eyes dart away, and I know in that instant that he's been given orders to file my nails down, to render me unarmed. Just like they do to Johanna. "I meant you and Finnick," he explains.

"Oh."

Cinna grooms me in silence for the rest of the session. He dresses me next, fastens my token over my heart, and sends me out of the door wearing pastel colors. I hate them. But they certainly do make it easier to pretend. I've got a smile screwed on but it could falter and if it does, my emotions won't be betrayed by my wardrobe.

X

I don't know much about golf. Just that it's boring, and that there was no time to use Haymitch's tablet to learn more. Plain clothed peacekeepers escort me back to the University, and I struggle not to look around campus for familiar faces. Well, for one familiar face in particular.

Seneca Crane is waiting for me at the first hole. When I reach him, there is no warm greeting. He strokes his dark, intricately shaved facial hair with his thumb and forefinger and nods. Then he simply points to his clubs and explains which is which, while I hoist the heavy bag over my shoulder and follow him.

Apparently, he wants me to carry this heavy bag around all day. He says I can be his _caddy, _and then laughs at a joke that goes over my head.

Golf turns out to involve a lot of quiet and a lot of walking. I often find myself standing. Posing, too. There are plenty of photographers here today, so I do my best not to look bored or make any strange faces. I even wave a few times and smile. Hopefully a photo or two will make it back to Snow.

"I need a 9 iron," Crane says to me, and I turn away from the paparazzi. It takes me a moment to remember which is which, since he only told me briefly an hour ago. I can tell from the smirk on his face that he wants me to get this wrong. He wants a reason, any reason, to give me bad feedback. Well, I won't let him. I select the proper club and extend it to him with a tight-lipped smile. He holds my gaze for a moment before accepting.

When we reach the 4th hole, we catch up with Plutarch. He greets me with a kiss on the back of the hand and tells me that I look radiant.

"I hope to enjoy the pleasure of your company again soon," I say.

Plutarch's eyes dart over to Crane, who is suddenly seething behind me, and back. "Of course, Ms. Everdeen. The pleasure would be all mine." Plutarch furrows his brow. "Take care of yourself." His words seem like a warning.

When Plutarch turns away, I feel Crane's hand grab my wrist and tug. "I forgot something in my office." His eyes drop to my lips. "Come with me."

"Yes, of course."

I follow two paces behind him. That seems to be where he wants me. We quickly walk off the green and I finally ditch that heavy bag. He leads me past the library and into Panem Hall, a deserted building. Peacekeepers guard the entrance, but they don't so much as acknowledge me as I pass. Crane leads me up a wide set of stairs and opens a large wooden door with his name on it, that I assume is his office.

"Miss Everdeen, please come in. Lock the door behind you."

I turn the lock and when I spin around, his smile is gone.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" he hisses. With the door closed, he's a different man. On the golf course, he was arrogant but civil. Now as I look at him, I understand why my nails were filed down.

I take a step back as I look down and inspect myself. I'm just wearing my uniform. Pastel colors. My mockingjay pin. "You don't like it?"

"It's kind of slutty."

He gestures for me to step closer and when I do, I feel him behind move me. "Put your hands flat on my desk." As I oblige, his hands slide back and forth across the small of my back. But the soft touch is quickly gone as he forces me to bend forward over the table with the heel of his hand between my shoulder blades. I bring my hands in front of my face and turn my head to brace myself.

His hand stays in between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned to the table. His other hand wanders to the hem of my skirt and lifts it up. It's warm out, but my skin feels cool. "It does make it easier to fuck you, though. Doesn't it?" I feel my body tense as he hooks a finger in the waistband of my panties and pulls them down to my knees. He uses his foot to spread my legs apart. I'm exposed. "Doesn't it?" he repeats in an icy voice laced with anger.

My nerves are setting in, but I force myself to hold it together. "Yes," I whisper.

"You think that was pretty funny, don't you?" I furrow my brow in confusion, but my thoughts are immediately halted as he roughly pushes two fingers into me, before I have the chance to get wet. I try not to, but I let out a whimper. Crane notices, I can hear it in his amused chuckle.

"You think you're smart just because you can recognize the call of a mutant bird?"

"What?" I try to close my legs, but he's keeping them spread wide with his feet.

"You don't know anything, little girl. All you're good for is cum disposal."

My mouth falls open. At first, I expected for my clients to treat me poorly. Haymitch said they'd call me every name in the book. He said they might even mean it. But after negotiating with Snow, I didn't expect this. I didn't expect anyone to actually hurt me. Perhaps this is a test. Or perhaps I've misjudged the situation.

"You've been a pain in my ass since the Games. Do you have any idea how expensive that arena was? I had to torch an entire quadrant of it just to get you out of it." I say nothing as I squint my eyes. All I can feel are his fingers pushing into me. "You owe me an apology."

I keep my mouth shut, trying desperately not to make a sound.

"Apologize!" he demands louder, pushing deeper into me.

"Ow, okay!" I gasp for air. "I'm sorry."

"You should be. You didn't play by the rules. _My_ rules! And they send you in here dressed like a slut. Whose slut _are_ you? Hmm? Who did you wear this for?" He pushes his fingers into me harder and I try to scratch against the wooden table, but my nails are gone and I only drag the pads of my fingers across the mahogany. Crane doesn't pull his fingers out. He keeps them pressed too deeply inside of me.

"No one," I whisper. I press into the table to push myself up, but I'm met with resistance. He's keeping me pinned.

"I'm not done with you." He adds a third finger and I can't help but cry out in pain. "Tell me whose slut you are!"

"Yours!" I shout. "I'm your slut."

He removes his fingers from me with a satisfied laugh and I breathe a sigh of relief as I reach my hand down between my legs to cover myself. I know the movement is in vain. I have to let him touch me again if he chooses to. I'm not really sure what he hoped to accomplish by making me say that. But if he wanted me to feel shame, well... I'm there.

I hear him fiddle with his belt. I crane my neck to see what he's doing. When he pushes his pants down to his knees, my heart beats faster. I've only been with Peeta and Finnick, and both of them by choice. But now, the gravity of the situation hits me. I have to let this happen. I have to let him fuck me, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Not if I want to save them.

I shut my eyes and think of Prim, but the last time I saw her was at the reaping, and the thought only makes my eyes well up with tears faster. Crane is behind me, and a shiver runs through me as he places his hands on my hips.

"Condom," I say, but my voice is too quiet. "You have to use a condom," I try again, louder this time.

His hand quickly threads through my hair and he grabs a handful, lifting my chest off the desk. I hiss in discomfort as he brings his lips to my ear.

"Wouldn't want me to catch anything from you, huh? I bet you're filthy."

I'm clean. We all are. Even this asshole had to pass a medical exam in order to request my services. "It's the rules," I explain. I swallow hard. My body trembles. There's no one in here to enforce those rules. "You know all about rules. You even get to make some of them."

"That's right, I do." He chuckles in my ear and then forces me back down. My forehead hits the desk hard, blurring my vision and he releases me. I bring the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to regain control of my senses. I don't feel him behind me, but I do hear him. I hear the crinkle of plastic being unwrapped and I sigh in relief. Sort of.

Too soon, he's back. His cock grazes my entrance as my entire form goes rigid. I try to remember what Finnick taught me, what he showed me about my own body. But my head hurts, and all I can think about is the fact that Finnick is out on assignment, too. He's fucking someone else, and most likely enjoying it, while I'm in here getting roughed up by Crane. I force the thought away. There's nothing Finnick can do right now, anyway. I reach my hand down and quickly rub my clit, trying to get wet before Crane hurts me again like he did with his fingers. But I'm not fast enough. He grips my hips tightly, and then, without further warning, he's inside of me.

I bite my lip and focus on controlling my sounds as he pounds into me quickly and deeply. If he'd given me a chance to get wet, it might feel good. Instead, each thrust brings a new wave of discomfort in the pit of my stomach. He moves quickly, spreading nausea through my body. The edge of the desk is digging into my thighs, pinching uncomfortably. I squirm, wondering if he can tell that I'm not enjoying it. I wonder if that's the point.

"I make the rules," he spits. He words actually give me pause. "You do as I say!"

I don't want to hear any more. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the sound of his insecure words fade into the background. In my mind, I'm somewhere else. I'm flirting with Peeta in the moonlight. I'm in Finnick's room, kissing him tenderly. I'm not in 12, there's no comfort left there, but I'm somewhere other than here.

Our first time together, Finnick said my clients would want to make me feel good. But not Crane. He doesn't crave the intellectual challenge of a smart woman. I've humiliated him, first during the Games and again at the reading, and he wants to fuck me just to show me that he can. It's too late to do anything about my performance in the Games, but I have to be careful about what I say at these events. I need to learn to not piss anyone off. Not when my body can be purchased for punishment like this.

Crane's best quality is his utter lack of stamina. He's already pulsing inside of me, moving wildly and erratically. He doesn't seem to notice when I push myself up this time and separate him from my body.

He takes a few steps backwards and sits blindly down on his office chair, breathing heavily with a satisfied smile across his face. I pull my underwear up from around my ankles and fix my skirt. I watch him, trying not to attack him, as his orgasm fades.

There are objects around that could double as weapons, too many of them, in fact. I wouldn't even have to move my feet to reach for an envelope opener or a stapler. I could kill him for touching me like that. Maybe I even should. I could make it painful, too. The thought is tempting as the ache between my legs grows.

"God damn, you were worth every penny." He's smiling again, his voice still breathless. His eyes are closed. He doesn't think he's in any danger. Has he forgotten that I'm a murderer?

I haven't.

My fingertips trace over the envelope opener. My heartbeat quickens.

"I'll be sure to report back favorably."

I freeze. I force myself to think. Snow is paying close attention to me right now. He's looking for feedback, positive feedback. It's probably the only way to get Snow off my ass and to get what I want out of this. I _could_ kill Crane right now... but then what? If they find him dead in his office today, everyone will know who did it.

Maybe this is a test after all. I'm still in the Games. Still calculating my moves. The pain between my legs grows. I'm wounded, but I'm not beaten yet.

I'm shaking as I pull my fingers away from the letter opener. My nerves will show soon, or worse, I'll end up slitting his throat. "I'm happy to hear that."

Whatever he paid, Snow should definitely charge him more. Especially if the sore spots on my hips are any indication of his preferences. I'll have bruises for sure. Definitely unacceptable.

I force a smile and then I turn away. He doesn't stop me.

I rush down the stairs, eager to get back to the training center. I can't remember a time that running towards peacekeepers made me feel safe.

X

Showering doesn't help. Even after I wash the smell of Crane off of me, I can still feel him. I feel his fingers, poking, prodding, penetrating me before I was ready. If I'm honest, my mind may never have been ready. But my body... he could've at least waited for that.

But then again, he didn't have to.

There's a message from Peeta, but I can't bring myself to listen to it. Finnick wasn't back from his assignment when I got back to the training center, so I didn't go to his room. Mine is fixed now, anyway, even if it doesn't hold the same warmth as his does. I'm not sure warmth is what I want right now, or if it's what I deserve.

I'm sitting on the foot of my bed, wearing just a robe, biting my bottom lip hard, trying to keep it together and failing miserably when Finnick opens my door. He doesn't seem surprised to find me in here. He doesn't seem surprised to find the door unlocked either. It's late afternoon, a couple of hours before dinner, but exactly when he promised he'd be back. He moves closer, but I can't break out of my daze. It not until I feel his hand cup my jaw that I startle and I pull away. I don't want to be touched.

If Finnick is disappointed, he doesn't show it. He doesn't ask me what's wrong. He already knows. His eyes show more concern than anything else. He steps back, keeping his eyes on mine as he lowers himself to sit on the chair across from me.

"Did he hurt you?"

I take a deep breath. "Yes," I admit.

Finnick's hands ball into fists. He calmly and evenly announces, "I'll kill him."

I lift my eyes to meet his. "No, you won't."

He raises an eyebrow at me. The look on his face reminds me that he's a trained murderer. An experienced killer. Even though he's vulnerable, he's deadly.

"He'll report positive feedback to Snow," I reason. But this doesn't seem to calm Finnick's brewing rage.

"Tell me what he did."

I shake my head. I don't want to tell him. "Finnick-"

"Tell me, Katniss."

"You said not to tell you if it doesn't matter. This didn't matter." I don't need to look at Finnick to know he doesn't believe me. How could he, when I don't even believe myself? I huff out a breath. "His fingers... he didn't wait for me to get wet." Finnick curses under his breath. "He didn't care if I was ready." I can hear Finnick's breath deepen as I explain how Crane bent me over his desk and kept me pinned down the whole time. There was no kissing, no touching. His words were too harsh and his stroke too rough. We didn't even take off our clothes, and my forehead still hurts from where he slammed me down against the desk. "Crane didn't desire me. He was angry, and he was sending me a message. Plain and simple."

"He doesn't know how disposable he is."

"Finn-"

"No one will miss him."

I look down. This isn't what I need from him right now. I can tell he senses that too, because he lowers his voice before speaking again.

"Did you touch yourself?" he asks. I take a deep breath before I nod my head. "Did you like that?"

"Yes, but he didn't-"

"Forget about him. Tell me about _you_."

I look at him, confused. "What?"

"Tell me what you did."

"Oh... I needed to get wet so I rubbed my clit, and-"

"Did you do it slow?"

"No."

"Why not? You like it slow." His hands move to his waistband and he unbuttons his jeans. "You get _really_ wet when it's slow."

"Yes, I do," I admit as I watch him. His hand is inside his jeans and he's stroking himself.

"You should touch yourself the way you like to be touched."

"But I couldn't-"

"Right now. Just like I am."

I'm watching his movements intently. "Does that feel good?" I ask.

"Yes, it does. You can feel good, too. You know how you like it." His movements still and my eyes dart up to meet his. "Touch yourself, Katniss."

Touch myself? Why would he ask me to do that right now? I grimace at the thought. "He hurt me," I admit. "I'm kind of sore."

"Do it gently. You could get another envelope in the morning, and whether you're sore won't matter."

I frown at that. "I'd rather be with you."

His hand moves again. "I'd rather have that, too. But even I can hurt you if you're not ready for me."

"You get me ready," I say. And it's true. Despite the dull ache between my legs, I can feel myself getting wetter just looking at him.

"Sometimes you'll need to get yourself ready." I sigh deeply, understanding the sad truth. "Do you trust me?" he asks.

I nod my head. "I trust you."

"Touch yourself," he repeats, quieter this time. He moans just a little before he speaks again. "I want to see." The timing of the request is odd, but there's a strange look in his eye. It's not desire, not adoration. Not anger, or even pity. He wears a stern expression, as though he's explaining something important. A lesson I need to learn.

I'll do it. For him. I lay flat on my back and untie my robe. As I reveal my bruised skin to him, his expression softens and he looks almost pained. He knows I'm hurt. He knows Crane hurt me. But he schools his expression and resumes the role of mentor, so I accept his lesson. My hand sneaks down and I rub myself gently. I move my hips and after a few moments with Finnick's gaze on me, I actually enjoy the friction I'm giving myself.

"You're teasing yourself," he smiles softly.

"Mmhmm," I admit. "It feels good."

"It looks good." I open my eyes and turn my head to meet his. "But you need to get wet as fast as I get hard." He lifts his hips, pulling down his jeans and revealing his erection. It's not the most aroused I've ever seen him. The tip isn't even wet. But I suppose if he had to, he could fuck someone with that.

"Rub your clit," he suggests. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the wall. He's stroking himself again. I part my thighs and use my index finger to put pressure on my clit. I let out a sigh as my touch sends a wave of pleasure through my body. "Just like that, Katniss."

Encouraged by his words, I rub harder. I draw circles, pinching ever so slightly. "Oooh," I moan quietly. I'm careful to keep in control of the sounds I make.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yes." I move my fingers faster.

"It makes you want to cum, doesn't it?"

"Mmhmm," I moan. "I want to cum," I whine.

I hear movement from the side of the room and feel Finnick's presence in front of me. When I open my eyes, he's standing nude at the foot of the bed, stroking himself, and watching me finger my clit.

"That looks so sexy," he says. "Watching you play with yourself is getting me so hot."

"Will you touch me?" I beg. Fuck, I'm begging.

"Yes, I will. As soon as you make yourself cum."

An exasperated groan leaves my throat and I watch a sly smile spread across his face. "You're so close." I nod my head. I am. "I'm close, too. Oh damn, Katniss, cum now so I can fuck you."

"Ohhh..." I nod my head as I get closer. The intensity of his green eyes boring into mine helps me climb higher.

"Get that pussy all wet for me."

"Shit," I whimper as my voice gets higher.

"Yeah, just like that." He's moving his hips. Damn, it's gonna feel so good when he moves in me like that. "You're dripping."

"I'm gonna-" My mouth falls open, and my words die on my tongue. There are goose bumps spread across my skin and I'm about to sweat. I'm hot, so hot, and my entire body seems to catch fire as I find release.

Finnick's eyes are on mine. He's smiling at me, nodding his head, and fucking me with his eyes as my body comes alive in pleasure.

"That felt good," I say as I drop my head back.

The bed shifts beneath me and I feel strong hands on my thighs. Finnick pushes my legs wide apart and then settles between them, dragging the tip of his cock against my wet folds.

"You want it to feel better?" he asks.

I nod my head dumbly.

"Then use me." I look up at him, confused. "Use my body to make yourself feel good."

He rolls away and lays flat on his back beside me. His cock is really hard now, and even though I'm still sore, I want to feel him.

"Get on top of me," he says. When I move to obey, he stops me. "Face away from me. Ride me backwards."

We've never done this before. Usually when are together, it's in a position that allows us to look into each other's eyes. For some reason, that makes our connection feel more intense.

But then I realize, this isn't about our connection.

I remove my robe quickly, with no finesse, and straddle him. I lower myself onto him slowly, taking him in inch by inch. As our bodies come closer together, I lean forward, bracing myself on his shins, gripping them tightly. He doesn't seem to mind.

His hands are on my ass, and he spreads me open. "Fuck, I can see _everything_," he groans again as I lift myself up. When I sink back down, I earn another hiss from him. "I'm watching you pull me in. You're wet. Your pussy wants this."

I nod my head as I listen to him. He's right. My body does want this. I _am_ wet, and I want to be fucked. And if I close my eyes and focus on the feeling of his body in mine... maybe it doesn't have to matter who is fucking me. Finnick is filing me right now, but if my body is ready, _if I get my body ready_, maybe I could enjoy being filled by someone else.

Not Crane. Not the way he did it. But someone else.

Suddenly, I understand. This position makes sense. I have control here. Finnick is the one who's vulnerable. I lower myself on him over and over, listening to the sounds he's making, realizing how much louder he is than I am.

At least until I feel pressure against my back hole.

It's an extra challenge, an unexpected change. He doesn't ask if I'm ready before pushing into me. I grip his shins tighter and bite my lip to stifle a moan. He can't see my face, so my surprise isn't on display. I sink down onto him harder, and nearly lose control myself. But I don't. I move my hips, taking him in until his breaths grow louder than mine again.

I've won this game. I'm in control. He's close, and I try to lift up again ready to finish him off, but his free hand on my hip keeps me in place. I look back at him and raise my eyebrows.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I'm close."

I know. "You can finish inside of me." He already knows that. I don't understand why he's stopped us.

His expression softens. "Not like this."

He withdraws his finger from my back hole and I lift off of him. His hand on my hip encourages me to spin around. I straddle him again and sink back down onto his cock, and he sits up. Our lips meet for the first time as we wrap our arms around each other. I drink him in, my lover, my protector, my mentor. The man who understands and cares for me in a way no one else does. When we begin to move, I feel a stirring in my body, different than when I was on top. A feeling that comes from being connected, mind and body. A feeling I've only experienced with Finnick.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles against me. "I'll fix this. I'll take care of you."

My heart swells with his words. "I need you," I tell him.

"What do you need me to do, baby?"

"I need you to make me feel good," I say as he claims my mouth again. I pull away, looking into his eyes again as we move together. Our rhythm is delicious and I can't get enough. Jolts of pleasure shoot through our bodies, intensified by our eye contact.

He presses his forehead against mine. I wiggle my hips as our movements quicken. I'm close. So close. But I don't let go again, not until I feel him pulse, feeling the heat of his cum inside of me. We're a sweaty mess, still looking into each other's eyes, still breathing heavily against each other's mouths. Without another word, I lay my head on his shoulder. He's still inside of me when I fall asleep.

* * *

><p><em>It was after I wrote this chapter that I realized this is likely a Katnick story. How can anyone compete with Finnick? Chapter 7 is being worked on and I'm hoping to update this story again on January 28th. Peeta will be back in Chapter 8. But for now, I'd love to hear your thoughts on Katnick :)<em>

_Thanks for your messages about Babybug. He had strep, but was feeling well again by Christmas. We're still in the open enrollment period, so if you or someone you love is looking for health insurance, please learn more here: __www. dpbolvw click-7699320-10359792_

_Update, 1/26/15 - I haven't sent Chapter 7 out to be beta'd yet. I'll need another week or two._


	7. The Healing Process

_Hey everyone! Sorry I'm a week late. I had a little trouble getting this out to you. The story kind of ran away from me and I had to get it back on track, with help from Mockingjayfyingfree (beta), Diana_Flynn (prereader), and Chelzie (grammer diva) of course. Thanks ladies!. _

_This should be the last chapter of setting up and world-building. Beginning with Chapter 8, I can finally tell the story I want to tell! _

_Thanks for coming along for the ride :)_

* * *

><p><span><strong>The Healing Process<strong>

_The world around me has transformed to flame and smoke._

_There's a loud hissing sound, and the bright glow of a fireball through the gray haze around me. So, I force myself to move. I hurdle a burning log and my jacket catches fire, flames licking my lower back and melting my skin. __I run blindly through the forest. Branches materialize from the haze without warning, slicing the flesh of my cheek. Warm blood trickles from the wound as the coughing begins. I drop to my knees as the smoke threatens to suffocate me. My lungs are hot and feel as if they are being cooked._

_I can't take it anymore._

_There's hissing again. My muscles react, only not fast enough. A fireball crashes into the ground at my side, but not before it skids across my right calf. I twist and scuttle backwards on my hands and feet, shrieking, trying to remove myself from the horror. If the Gamemakers want to finish me off, now is the time._

_As quickly as it began, the attack is over. There's no glare of flame through the smoke around me, no horrible hissing noise. They don't want me dead. Not yet anyway._

X

I fall to the ground in a heap. The cool marble tiles against my skin let me know where I am. I'm no longer dreaming.

I hate burns, have always hated them. It's the worst kind of pain to me. Maybe that's why nightmares of the fire have affected me the most. I knew even then that it wasn't a tribute's campfire gone out of control, that it wasn't an accident. The flames had an unnatural height, a strange uniformity. Crane made them. I thought it was little more than a plot device, to draw tributes out and bring us together. Now I know that he sent them just for me.

It's been four days since I last saw Crane. Four days since he broke me. And four days since Finnick put me back together.

Finnick is crouched down on the floor beside me. His breath is on my neck, and his hands are rubbing small, soothing circles on the small of my back. "It's over," he whispers, and I try to relax. I trust his voice. He holds me, kisses me, fucks me gently when I ask him to. But it's so much more than physical comfort.

I curl into a ball as his hands move to my hips, and he brushes over the bruises that haven't yet healed. Finnick keeps a thick balm that smells like honey in a silver tin in his bathroom. He's been rubbing it on my bruises, but it's having little effect. I don't tell him that, though. Not when he's putting so much effort into healing me.

I open my mouth to thank him for comforting me yet again, but my throat hurts, and judging by the pathetic whimper that escapes my lips, I've been screaming. I exhale shakily and he tenses.

"Katniss?" I nod my head, but I don't uncurl myself just yet. Finnick sighs and presses a kiss to the back of my neck. "You're not in the arena anymore."

"I know," I whisper back.

I open my eyes and take in my surroundings. The blue-green walls, the photos that I know the stories behind now. The photo of us, taken just a week ago, that's leaning against his watch stand on the dresser. The curtains are drawn, but I know it's still evening.

"Finnick?"

"Hmm?"

"Do they stop?"

"The nightmares?" he clarifies.

"Yes."

He's quiet for a long time. "No. But, it gets easier."

"What do you mean easier?"

"Blurrier, I guess. More distant. I still dream about the arena, but now I know they're dreams."

"How does that happen?" I ask.

"Time."

"I don't see how time could possibly help."

"Haven't you heard the saying _time heals all wounds?_" The tips of his fingers graze over the worst of the bruises.

"No."

"Well, it's true. Time offers perspective. It has a way of making things that seem unforgivable forgivable."

"Like the things we did in the arena."

"Yeah... I know it sounds pretty fucked up since it's still fresh for you, but one day you'll stop blaming yourself. One day, you'll wake up having slept more soundly. It won't happen every day, not at first anyway, but it'll happen."

"You're right." I finally uncurl myself and roll over so that I can see his face. There isn't much light in here, but his features are still visible. I can see the sad smile on his lips, the sleepy look still in his eye. "That does sound fucked up."

He laughs quietly and then he pushes my messy, sweaty hair out of my face. He takes my hand in his and encourages me to sit up. I lean forward and kiss him gratefully for putting up with another one of my nightmares.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

He shakes his head against my lips. "I wasn't asleep yet." But then he yawns, and I know he's exhausted. I grip his shoulders and I can feel it in his muscles. "Almost was, though."

"You should sleep," I suggest. "I think I'm going to take a walk."

"I can come with you," he suggests as I stand. But I shake my head no as I retrieve my robe from the foot of the bed and tie it around my body.

"I'm just gonna get some milk or something." I doubt they'll give me any milk. Too many calories. "Or maybe some tea," I correct myself. I retrieve a pair of panties from one of my drawers and quickly put them on.

"You're sure?" he asks. Even if I weren't sure, he's already climbing back into bed.

"I'm sure," I whisper as I exit the room. He's asleep before the door closes behind me.

The hallway is dark and so is the common area. I don't see any avoxes around to ask for tea, and I don't know where anything is. So I make my way over to the window, hoping that the stars will comfort me. But I quickly realize that the ambient light from the Capitol makes that impossible.

"Couldn't sleep?"

I startle at the voice that sounds behind me, even though it's quiet. I spin around quickly and find Johanna resting on one of the couches.

"No," I answer. I step closer and see that she's rubbing her left shoulder. When her hand moves and my eyes adjust to the lighting, I can see the bruise. The one on her face isn't the only one.

"Are you okay?" I immediately want to stuff the words back into my mouth. Of course she's not okay.

"I'll be fine. I learned the best way to get rid of Crane's handiwork a long time ago."

"What?"

She turns her head to the side so that I can see the bruise that only days ago took up half her face. "Used to take twice as long to get rid of the bruises. He hasn't gone for my face in a while though, and I suspect that _this_ had something to do with you."

"Crane did that?" I ask, pointing to her face and then pulling my hand down before it can linger. She nods her head slowly. I open my mouth to apologize, but she cuts me off.

"Don't apologize," she says.

I clamp my mouth shut and bring my fingers to my hips, rubbing at my bruises and feeling my face twist in pain.

Johanna's expression softens. "Yeah, that's where he likes to hold on to me too." She gestures for me to come closer and I give her a confused look. "I won't bite," she assures me.

When I step closer and stand in front of her, she widens her knees and leans in. She brings her fingers up, reaching for the belt knotted around my waist. I flinch and push her hands away. "What are you doing?"

"Helping," she says, looking at me like I'm a complete idiot. She reaches for my belt again and this time, I allow it. She opens my robe, and I'm thankful that I put some underwear on. Though I'm not sure it would faze her if I hadn't.

Her movements still as her eyes dart back and forth, looking at my bruised skin. "He's an animal," she comments. "They're still purple." She picks up the tube and tucks the end of it between her teeth.

"Finnick's been putting something on them."

"Beeswax, right?" I shrug my shoulder. I'm not sure what it is, but it does smell like honey. Johanna chuckles quietly. "I swear, he thinks that stuff will cure anything. It didn't help me at all, though."

"It's not doing much for me either."

She drops the tube into her hand and squeezes out a thick, off-white gel into her palm. I tense as she brings her hands to my hips and rubs firmly. She's doing it too roughly, and I open my mouth to tell her as much. But I end up sighing audibly as the balm provides almost instant numbing relief.

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"It's the menthol. We use it a lot in 7."

"Thank you."

"Sure." She smiles and pulls away, setting the rest of the tube down on the couch. I sit next to her, covering myself up as I do. "You want to tell me why Crane is in such a foul mood?"

"Something about the fire they set in the arena."

Johanna nods her head. "He _was_ particularly proud of that arena. He said he wanted it to be preserved and turned into an attraction, like the 20th Games. Or the 65th."

The 65th? "Finnick's Games?" I ask. Johanna nods. "His arena is an _attraction_?"

"Terrible, isn't it? You should be happy that yours was half burned to hell. It wasn't worth saving and they've already dismantled it." She takes a deep breath. "_You'll_ never have to go back there."

But what about Finnick? If his arena is still standing then he's probably had to film commercials or attend parties in there. He might've even had to entertain clients in there. I shudder at the thought.

"You really care about him. Don't you?" I lift my eyes to meet hers, but I don't answer. "Some people say falling in love is the stupidest thing a victor can do, but I don't think that's true."

"What do you know about it?"

"I speak from experience."

"I thought there was no one left you love," I fire back, echoing the words she spoke to me last week.

"You didn't really believe that, did you? If that were true, I'd already be dead." She studies my face for a moment. "You can ask."

I take a deep breath. "Who do you love?"

"Someone broken, but who put me back together when I was at my weakest." She brings her hand up and runs the pad of her thumb across her fingertips. Her nails are still short, and I wonder if she'll have another client soon. "They put me to work right away. Said they'd kill my parents and my boyfriend if I didn't. So of course, I did. I wanted to protect them. My first client was an engineer from 3. He'd developed some kind of generator and wanted to fuck that machine so badly. His kink was electricity, and my _deflowering _was his ultimate wet dream. I was bound, electrocuted, forced to climax over and over. I didn't know it at the time, but the entire thing was televised. It was supposed to be on one of the special channels that only airs in the Capitol but it leaked and by the time I got back to 7, everyone had seen it. My parents disowned me. My boyfriend broke up with me. I lived in the Victors' Village alone."

"What about Blight?"

"He was spending a lot of time in 6, 'self-medicating' with Angelo. He OD'd and was in the hospital right before my victory tour, so I had to go it alone. They kept him in the hospital for months so I had to mentor alone, too."

"Oh." I'm not sure what to think. All I know if the idea of mentoring next year alone is frightening.

"At my first Games, my tributes were killed in the bloodbath. After I watched them die, I came back to the training center and found an envelope waiting for me. They were going to sell me again. I didn't think it could get any worse. So I called home. I'm not sure why. I don't know what I was expecting. But I called anyway and... My mother-" Johanna purses her lips before she speaks again. "She blamed me. For losing them."

"It wasn't your fault," I say. I know that much, at least. But, I don't know how it feels to lose a tribute, so I don't say anything more.

"I know that now. But I was young, hurt, and angry. The peacekeepers brought me to my next client, but I didn't let him touch me. I attacked him, dug my thumbs into his eyes, and blinded him, but he managed to knock me out before I could kill him. When I came to, I was in the hospital, and Snow himself was there. He threatened to have the people I love killed... and I told him to go right ahead. I wouldn't let myself be punished again for people who didn't stand by me. Who _blamed_ me." I nod my head in understanding. "I made a mistake."

"What?"

"I should have protected them. Maybe they would have come around. My parents, at least. And until they did, I could've helped them live happy lives. Instead, I let them die, knowing that I could've prevented it. My father was found with an ax in his back, and it was ruled a _suicide_." She chuckles bitterly. "I tried to change my mind and told Snow I'd let him sell me, but it was too late. I'd already made my choice."

"But you allow it now," I say. "Sort of."

She nods her head. "I allow it," she confirms.

"Why?"

"Because when I was alone in the Victors' Village, and they were all gone, I didn't have a reason to live. I took some rope, tied a perfect noose, just like Finnick showed me, and I hung myself. I woke up in Blight's arms. He was crying, whispering promises in my ear. He got off the morphling, and moved into my house. He brought me food, took care of me. He showed me love in a way I didn't think was possible. He saved me."

"Blight's your..." She raises her eyebrows again, anticipating my next word. "Lover?" I ask quietly.

"Lover," she repeats. "Doesn't quite capture it, does it?" She gives me a knowing look.

"No. It doesn't." I don't know what word does, though.

"He's not much." She smiles sadly. "But, he is from home."

I look away.

"I know things between you and Finnick are, well, they _are_. But whatever's going on back in 12, you should try to fix it, while you still can."

"How did you know-"

"You forget we all watched you in the arena. I know more about you than you think. It's easier for you than it was for me, though. You already chose to protect them."

I don't look up, but I consider her words. My mother and Prim are still alive. Gale is still alive. I can save them.

"Hey!" Johanna snaps her fingers, and suddenly, is standing right in front of me. I didn't even see her move.

"What?"

"I said I'm going to bed."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine. It's just late. We should both get some rest." She does that thing with her thumb and fingertips again. I mimic the motion, and frown in confusion as I feel 4 days' worth of nail growth on my fingertips. Why didn't Cinna file my nails down when I saw him yesterday? "One more client before I can go home." Johanna turns away. "Keep the menthol." I notice the tube is still on the cushion beside me.

Before I can thank her, she leaves me in the common room alone.

I'm not sure how long I sit. The sun isn't up yet when I reach for the phone and dial home. The phone rings a lot, but I'm not surprised. 12 is only two hours behind us, and I expect I woke up the whole house.

"Katniss?"

I sigh in relief at the sound of my mother's sleepy voice for the first time in a long time.

"Yeah. Hi."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright." I laugh sadly to myself, holding back tears. "I just wasn't sure if you-" I cut myself off and take a deep breath. "I can't believe how happy I am to hear your voice."

She sighs and speaks quietly. "I'm sorry."

"What?" I don't understand.

"I know what happens... and I'm sorry."

"How? How do you know?"

She clears her throat. "We shouldn't speak about this on this phone. Should we?"

"No." I deflate. "We shouldn't."

There's a pregnant pause before she speaks again. "You just come home soon, okay?"

I blink once, twice, remembering Johanna's story. "You _want_ me home?"

"Of course we do."

"We?"

"Prim's asks about you every single day."

I pull the receiver away from my ear, and I allow myself to release the emotions I've been holding in. I don't care, I don't hold back the tears, not even when I catch the movement of an avox out of the corner of my eye.

I'm not naïve, I could never afford to be. I didn't expect life after the Games to be what they promised. I'd seen the propaganda, and I never believed the promise of a lone Victor being bathed in riches as a sign of the Capitol's generosity and forgiveness. I watched them lead five girls to their doom before they called my name to lead me to mine. I'm here now, on the other side, and there's money, yes. They've been generous with that. But there's so much more.

I curl into a ball on the couch, hugging my knees tightly into my chest. I cry for a long time. Deep throaty sobs give way to tiny whimpers that escape my lips as the first sign of dawn breaks through the window. When the tears stop, I pick up the receiver again. I don't expect my mother to still be on the line, but to my surprise I'm met with the sound of her quietly snoozing. She's still there. I whisper softly into the phone that I love her, something I can't yet bring myself to tell her while she's conscious. But for the first time in years, I feel it.

I'm calm now, as an avox sets a cup of chamomile tea down in front of me. When I've finished drinking down the liquid I crawl back into bed. I wrap myself around Finnick and I feel safe.

X

We sit quietly at breakfast today. The oatmeal and banana breakfast they set in front of us is almost appealing. Finnick smiles as he watches me eat.

"That's the most I've seen you eat in a week," Haymitch comments. "It must take someone as humble as Finnick to get you to behave."

Finnick is a big part of my healing process. Effie too, with her etiquette sessions that keep my hands busy with something other than tying knots. But if I'm honest with myself, it's the support that came from speaking with Johanna and my mother that's given me back my appetite. I play along with Haymitch all the same.

"Humble?" I look at Finnick and he winks at me. "You're kidding."

"Yes, Katniss. I'm kidding. He's a peacock. A total preener."

Finnick smirks as he wraps his mouth around a spoonful of oatmeal. "Shut up, old man," he teases as he throws a crumpled up napkin at Haymitch, who bats it away.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Haymitch puts a piece of his bacon on my plate.

"Thank you." I use my knife and fork to cut it into pieces and bring one to my mouth.

"Woah! You said 'thank you' _and_ used a knife and fork?" Haymitch laughs. "Someone's actually picked up some manners from Effie, huh?"

It's true. Etiquette lessons are starting to shape my behavior. I roll my eyes anyway. Haymitch is still an old bastard.

The avoxes arrive. After 4 days of lessons with Effie, I have no envelope and get a reprieve. Finnick gets an envelope though, but he doesn't open it. Like he's done for the past few days now, he stuffs it into his pocket before pushing away from the table.

"I'm going to go get ready," he tells me, and kisses the top of my head. I put my napkin over my plate and excuse myself from the table.

When I enter Finnick's room, he's already in the shower. I shrug out of my robe and step in behind him, without taking my panties off. He uses a shower setting that's warm, not hot, and smells like the ocean, complimenting his natural scent perfectly. I didn't even know that this setting existed. I guess when you've spent as much time in the Capitol as he has, you find small ways to make it work for you.

He knows I'm here, but he doesn't turn around. I join him beneath the spray of the water, sliding my hands around his back, clamping them over his navel, and hugging him from behind. He covers my hands with his and squeezes gently.

A few breaths later, he spins around in my arms and I loosen my grip on him. He lowers his head and presses his lips to mine, gently at first. He's been so careful with me lately. But I don't want tenderness, not now. I bring my hands up to his neck and pull him closer, thrusting my tongue between his lips. He responds immediately, massaging my tongue with his and winding his hands around my waist. When he tugs me closer, I sigh into his mouth and he pulls away, mistaking my moan for a sound of discomfort.

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "It's okay. They don't hurt. They're numb, actually."

He lifts his head and looks into my eyes. I'm immediately lost in a sea of green, and I can't read his expression. "Numb," he repeats. He doesn't ask _why_ my bruises are numb. He reaches for my hands and holds them to chest.

"Let me take you to 4."

I chuckle quietly. "What? When?"

"As soon as they ease up on your restrictions. Will you come with me?"

I smile slowly, and his lips curl up to match mine. "Yes. I'll go with you."

He sighs... in relief? "I thought you might say no."

"Why would I say no?"

He shrugs. "Because," he hesitates. "I'm not from home."

In that instant, I replay Johanna's words in my head. First her words about Finnick:

_He tried to help me too, you know. But some of us won't be helped._

And then about Blight:

_He isn't much. But, he is from home._

More went on between Johanna and Finnick than I realized. But, I choose not to make a big deal of my revelation right now. "Of course I'll go with you. But, I don't know when I'll be allowed to leave the Capitol. And once they allow it, I need to go to 12," I tell him.

"4 is on the way. You can take the train-"

"No. First. I need to go to 12 _first_."

He holds my gaze for a moment and then nods his head in understanding. "Okay." He brings his hand up to cup my face. "I'll be waiting for you."

X

When Finnick leaves for his assignment, I crawl back into his bed and breathe in deeply against the sheets that still smell like him. I spend another hour here. I don't get up until an avox comes by for the third time, wanting to tidy up after us. I suppose the common area is as good a place to mope as any.

"Alright, alright!" I groan as the knocking persists. I pull myself out of bed and head for the door. My hand is on the doorknob and I've just pushed it open when I hear strange voices. Quiet, hurried chatter in a strange accent that I've heard before, but can't quite place. I ignore the avox in front of me. I'm frozen in the doorway as the chatter gets closer and soon a figure, tiny and lean, turns the corner. If the sharpened teeth didn't give her away, then her skintight catsuit and high ponytail would.

Enobaria.

"You know he wants to see you," an obviously Capitol woman calls after her. She's wearing a dress that's covered in yellow and orange butterflies that frankly looks like something Effie would wear. She's carrying a binder, struggling to organize papers and envelopes as she follows a step behind Enobaria.

"I don't care _what_ he wants." I recognize the accent now. District 2. Clove sounded just like that. "He won't be available at the agreed upon time and you know my policy. 24 hour cancellation notice. Make sure you collect my payment." Her heels click against the marble floor, matching the stern tone of her voice. "At least it frees up my evening." She stops and her eyes search the hallway. I'm still standing in Finnick's doorway when she spots me. She bares her teeth and I can't tell whether she's smiling.

"Do you want to take the evening off?"

Enobaria speaks again, to the Capitol woman, but she holds my gaze. "No, we came all this way." The tip of her tongue traces over her teeth, and I wonder if they're sharp enough to make her bleed. "The General is in town. What does he have to offer?"

I step forward, wanting to know more. Is she really _choosing_ to see a client? The avox steps around me and into Finnick's room.

"The General..." the Capitol woman trails off as she shuffles through papers, dropping a few onto the floor.

Enobaria sucks her teeth. "This would all be so much simpler if you would use a tablet," she complains.

The woman rolls her eyes as she retrieves the papers. It's not until she opens one that I recognize them as envelopes, just like the envelopes delivered by the avoxes. She pulls a white card out of one and reads aloud. "The General requests your presence at a dinner party. 5,000 coins-"

"I've no use for his money."

"-and butterfly knives. Peacekeeper's new design."

"How many?"

"50."

She smiles widely, and I can see that it's not just the teeth in the front that have been altered. "Tell the General that I accept his invitation."

She spins on her heel and quickly walks away. She turns another corner and disappears towards the District 2 suites. I watch the Capitol woman as she collects the papers, muttering under her breath. She stands in the hallway, still struggling to keep her papers in order, when Effie appears, wearing a bright pink dress and holding a tablet in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Effie nods her head quickly as she listens to the woman in the butterfly dress speak. I can't hear what they're saying, but Effie is hanging onto her every word.

I catch Effie's eyes and she straightens her back before she interrupts the woman. "Katniss, dear!"

"Hi Effie."

"Have you met Kore? She's the escort for District 2."

Kore extends her arm, covered with paper butterflies, out to me. "It's nice to meet you," she says as I shake her hand.

"Likewise."

Kore turns back to Effie. "I'll be in town for another day or two, if you'd like to get coffee."

"Of course," Effie replies. She shifts all that she's carrying in her arms and leans in, kissing Kore on either cheek. "Ciao, darling."

Effie stands beside me, nervously shifting her weight.

"We need to speak."

"Sure."

I gesture for her to step into Finnick's room, but she shakes her head. "Why don't we grab some lunch?"

X

"I must say, when I first learned of this new situation, I'll admit I thought the worst. But what an amazing opportunity we have here."

I'm still amazed that I walked right out of the front door of the training center, and not a single peacekeeper stopped me. A car was waiting for us, and here I am, out to lunch with Effie, at a trendy rooftop restaurant called _Tesserae_. A ray of sunlight catches on one of the oversized rings on her finger, and the glare forces me out of my thoughts.

"Are you excited?" she asks. "I am."

Effie brings her glass to her lips and quickly sips half of the thick orange liquid down. I watch her, trying to make sense of her. But she looks as foreign to me as she did when I first met her,the day of the reaping. The horror that I was about to face was somehow enchanting to her.

"Excited?" I mumble. I shake my head and she pauses. She looks genuinely confused.

"Well, yes, excited. Your life will be much more glamorous than I was led to believe in speaking with Daria. The parties, the-"

"Who is Daria?"

"Daria is the escort for District 7, and she clearly doesn't know what is going on. Thank goodness for Kore. She's explained the scope of my new duties. Now you and I will get to, well, for lack of a better word, _shop_."

"Shop?"

She pulls a tablet out of her purse and sets it onto the table. "I know Kore prefers to work with envelopes, but I simply refuse to risk getting a paper cut with such an antiquated system." I roll my eyes. Effie's biggest concern right now is getting a fucking paper cut. "Here we are." She tilts the tablet so that I can see. Boxes upon boxes, rows upon rows - an array of photos of men. "Your suitors."

"Suitors?" I repeat. "These are all men who want to fuck me?" I push away from the table and stand with my mouth agape.

"Katniss, sit down. People are starting to stare." She waves and smiles at a nearby Capitolite. I look around and find that all eyes on the rooftop restaurant are on me. My outburst was the height of bad manners, and I know that manners matter deeply to Effie. So reluctantly, I sit back down.

"I'm sorry," I say.

Effie sets the tablet aside. She accepts my apology gra-ciously. She says it's clear I'm under a lot of pressure. And her comments about the necessity of _someone_ attending to the schedule only last about five minutes.

I wait for her to pause, which is when her drink is finally empty, to speak again. "Is Crane on there?" I hedge.

"He is," she confirms.

"I don't want to see him ever again."

She purses her lips. Then thankfully, she changes the subject. She spends the next 5 minutes encouraging me to drink my bellini and prattles on about her attempts to convince Cinna to name a dress after her.

She finishes her drink, and sets the glass down on the table with a clink. "When you're ready, we can choose your suitors. Many of them are quite lovely and they _so_ desire your company."

"What sort of company?"

"Well, it does depend on the suitor, of course. And whether or not Finnick Odair is in town. Honestly, Katniss, are you certain that a relationship with Mr. Odair is what you want now? Because it really does complicate matters in a way that-"

"Effie, stop!" I hold a hand up. "I think you need to start at the beginning."

Effie visibly deflates. "My apologies. Let's start at the beginning. You'll probably be interested in our accommodations."

"Our?" I furrow my brow as she sweeps at the tablet a few more times and holds up the screen for me to see. There's a stone cottage, two stories tall, covered in ivy and surrounded by woods. "It's beautiful."

"Well, it will be once I'm done with it. My living quarters will certainly have to be renovated, and I suspect you'll want to make a few additions to yours before we move in next week too."

Next week? "Where is this?" I ask, unable to take my eyes off of the building.

"Capitol University, as you requested. Though, you should know that it's not too late to request a flat in the downtown area with a lovely view of the-"

"I didn't request this," I defend.

Effie furrows her brow. "You requested to attend University, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"I have here your paperwork. You'll have to meet with an advisor, select a course of study, and take a photo for your ID card, but I'll bet we can simply send one in for them to use. And then you'll have to-"

"Wait a minute. You're saying that Snow approved my request?"

"Yes, of course he did, provided that you uphold the terms of the agreement."

"What agreement?"

Effie sighs. She speaks slowly now, as if I'm the dumbest person in the world. "That's what I've been _trying_ to explain to you. You must select your suitors and entertain them appropriately. The notable exceptions will be when you are out of the Capitol, and when you and Mr. Odair have commitments together."

"What sort of commitments? I don't want us to _entertain_ together."

Effie gestures for me to hand the tablet back to her. I oblige, and a few swipes later, she's pulled up my schedule.

"It seems Mr. Odair will be your escort at two events during the victory tour... and... There could be a few interviews with Flickerman during next year's Games. But, I do think we are getting a bit ahead of ourselves. There's no guarantee you'll even be together that long." She waves her hand dismissively.

I open my mouth to tell her to go to hell, but my phone vibrates on my wrist and I smile softly when I see that it's Finnick. I remove the earpiece from the strap of the watch and tuck it into my ear.

"Finnick," I sigh.

"I was worried about you," he says.

"I'm fine," I tell him. I hold up a hand to Effie, letting her know I'll be a minute and I turn away. "Miss you a lot right now."

I can hear his smile in his voice. "I miss you too, though it really hasn't been that long."

"Seems like it." Effie is trying to get my attention, but I ignore her. I stand and make my way over to the railing. From here, I can see for miles. The Capitol is divided into circular sections, neighborhoods, and from up here, it all looks so simple.

"Do I hear wind?" Finnick asks.

"Yeah, I'm at _Tesserae_. You've been here, right?"

"Yes, I have. So, your privileges are different," he observes.

"Yeah, seems that way."

"That's good," Finnick mumbles.

"Yes and, um, Enobaria's here. Not _here_. I mean that she's in the Capitol."

"Is she?" He sounds almost excited.

"Yeah. She's kind of scary."

Finnick chuckles again. "Don't worry about Enobaria. I'm sure you two will get along famously."

"Maybe. Finnick, do you think she'll be mad about-"

"Absolutely not."

I sigh heavily. I killed her sister. She _should_ be mad at me. "I should probably get going. Effie's not taking no for an answer."

"Sure," he agrees. "I'll be back soon."

"Me too."

The call disconnects. I remove the earpiece from my ear and tuck it back into the watch on my wrist.

"Is everything alright with Mr. Odair?"

Effie's standing beside me with her hands on the railing, same as me.

"Yes."

"Did I ever tell you that he is one of my favorite victors? One of the reasons I became an escort, actually. I had hoped to work with him, or any of the career districts, really." Effie seems to sense my disinterest. "I was watching you just now. The way you look when you say his name." I turn to face her. For the first time all day, she sounds more like the woman I've spent time with recently and come to trust. "I apologize for what I said a moment ago. About him complicating matters." I don't answer. His involvement doesn't complicate anything. "You should know that Snow's people assure me that your relationship with Mr. Odair will be respected, as long as you both fulfill your obligations."

"I don't want us to see clients together," I repeat. "And I _don't_ want to see Crane."

"Perhaps," Effie begins, as she tilts her head thoughtfully. "If we fill your time with a certain type of clientele, that could be avoided." She swipes at the tablet again and offers it to me. I meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a moment before accepting. "The Senator's wife was quite taken with you." I look down at the request, at the picture of the beautiful blonde I met at the reading with Plutarch.

Client: Mrs. Delia Cartwright Snood, M.F.A.

Gender: Female

Occupation: Philanthropist, Professor of Fine Arts

Services: Cunnilingus

Notes: 5,000 coins, 30-year-old merlot.

"Why is there something written in the notes section? And what's a Merlot?"

"It's wine, dear, and your compensation will always be written in the notes."

_My_ compensation? Since when do I receive compensation? I'm confused. "I don't drink wine." I thrust the tablet back into her hands. "And I _don't_ enjoy the company of women."

Effie laughs lightly. "This is one of your better options. A client like this will never request Mr. Odair's services or his involvement." She leans closer. "And you may find that you enjoy this sort of _experience_."

Experience? I furrow my brow. "You think I'll like eating pussy?"

"_Cunnilingus_, Katniss. Don't be so crude. I think you could enjoy _cunnilingus_. But really what I think you'll enjoy is having a client that satisfies your duties for Snow, doesn't put extra strain on your relationship with Finnick Odair, and doesn't subject you to the company of men you are explicitly against spending time with." She stands up straight again. "The more you and Finnick Odair are seen, the higher the odds of having to entertain together, and the more the jealous type of men will request your services. Unless, of course," she taps the tablet in her hand, "your schedule were booked."

I smile as I realize that Effie is trying to help me. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." She reaches for my hand. "We're a team. Aren't we?"

"Yes." I nod my head.

"Good." She smiles. "Now, let's look at the house again." She shows me another photo of the stone building, a large empty room, easily twice as big as my room in the training center. "For your quarters, I imagine golden brown floor cushions and green silk drapery, like a forest. Cinna will create everything, of course."

The prospect of decorating my _harem_ gives me pause. But, as Effie's eyes twinkle with possibility, I can't help but get caught in the moment. It's to Effie's surprise as much as my own that I suggest orange lanterns.

"Orange?" Effie asks, wrinkling her nose.

"Orange," I confirm. "Like a sunset."

* * *

><p><em>I hope you enjoyed! We can finally get to the heart of the story - the kf/p love triangle and Katniss's life in the Capitol. Give me a few weeks to get the next chapter out to you, okay?_

_Oh, and one last health insurance reminder, since the open enrollment period ends on Feb 15th: www. dpbolvw click-7699320-10359792_

_Have a Happy Valentine's Day everyone!_


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